Shore Leave
by Teobi
Summary: John Tracy is bored on vacation. Two more days and he'll be back on TB5. Then he meets HER...and she changes everything in an instant. Rated M for adult themes. And a bit of cussing. So much for The Quiet Tracy ;-P
1. Chapter 1

_In my humble opinion, John Tracy doesn't get enough 'action'. __I'm going to try to redress the balance somewhat._

_I've rated this M for sexual content and the odd swear word. I've done my best not too get too explicit although this is an Adult Romance so shenanigans must be expected. __Please let me know if I'm going too far, it's not my intention to offend. However, the nature of this story means there will be moments of tenderness and intimacy. __I have endeavoured to get rid of all grammar and spelling errors. Apologies if any have slipped through the net._

_This story is based on Gerry Anderson's amazing characters, none of which I own...I just enjoy playing with them from time to time._

**_Dedicated To Fran L, Louise H, Baby Sue, Sam W and others in the gang, and all the FAB ffic writers who have inspired me. _****_And to John (Blond God) Tracy fans everywhere...I hope I'm doing our boy proud!_**

_Speech over. Let's get started._

_########_

Man, it felt good to be down from the satellite. As much as John Tracy liked the solitude of working alone up in the depths of space, it was good to have his feet planted solidly on terra firma and to be able to walk in the sunshine and smell the fresh air.

Dad had given him a week off. It had seemed a little too long at the time...what was he going to do with six full days? But it was surprising how quickly it had gone by.

He was staying in the executive suite in one of the hotels that Tracy Enterprises owned. He wasn't overly fond of trading on his surname, but what the heck, he hadn't been on shore leave in quite a while and it wasn't as though anyone else was using it.

Today John was in the library, checking out the new books in the astronomy section. This part of the building was fairly quiet, although he'd had to pass through a group of schoolchildren on the way up, who were off to the Bugs and Creepy Crawlies room. He'd smiled at their harassed looking teacher as he passed, shaking his head at the noise and confusion. You forgot how rowdy kids were when you didn't spend your time around them.

He was halfway down a deserted aisle leafing through a book on astrophotography, intently studying and comparing pictures of dust clouds and nebulae, when he heard a series of small thuds and some momentary scuffling accompanied by muttered expletives. He went to the end of the stacks and saw a woman standing in the middle of a pile of books scattered on the floor, her hands buried in her hair, her cheeks pink and flushed.

"Shit!" she exclaimed. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

"Ahem," said John, stepping forward.

"Oh! Um, sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," she apologised quickly, straightening up and smoothing down her blouse and skirt.

"It's fine," John grinned. "I'm not offended. Here, let me help."

He knelt down and started picking up the books, inwardly wincing at some of the bent spines, crumpled dust jackets and creased pages."What were you trying to do?" he asked, brushing the mop of blond hair out of his eyes as he looked up at her.

"I was trying to carry them all to save time," she replied, crouching down to help. "I don't have the wheely cart thing, and I didn't want to make several trips."

"The wheely cart thing? You work here?"

"Yes, I do three days a week."

He studied her as she concentrated on picking up her fallen books. Pink tinged cheeks. Nice, full lips, although at the moment she was twisting them around in irritation at her own clumsiness. Auburn hair, nearly the colour of Gordon's, curly and tied back in a black ribbon. A sweet, spicy smell emanated from her open collar. When she briefly looked up and made eye contact, he saw that hers were grey with large pupils. He looked away again quickly, tried not to stare down her blouse at the breasts he knew were swinging there.

Get a grip, Tracy, he thought to himself. You're twenty five, not fifteen. She seems nice, talk to her.

"So, ah, what happened to the wheely cart thing?"

"Cutbacks," she replied. "We have to share them now. I'm only a part timer so I normally end up cartless. I'm impatient though, so I try to carry as many books as I can."

"And look where that gets you," John smiled, standing up and placing the books in a neat stack on a nearby table, trying in vain to flatten the sharp crease that ran down the centre of one of the dust jackets.

"I know, but most times I'm okay. I'm up to fifteen books now, as long as I don't have to go up too many stairs." She stared dejectedly at the books, then at John who was so obviously a book lover. "I'm sorry I damaged them though. I really ought to be more careful. Some of them are out of print now, and it doesn't look good to see someone throwing them around like that."

"Just don't be in so much of a hurry next time, that's all I can suggest." John smiled to show he wasn't annoyed with her, even if the book damage was a little disconcerting to his finer sensibilities.

"I love books too," she went on. "That's why I took the job here. Sometimes I sneak off just to read them, as long as I know the boss isn't around."

She watched him as he almost seemed to be stroking the books, his slender fingers tracing the edges of the pages, running lightly down their spines. Her own spine shivered. He looked utterly absorbed.

She drew a deep breath and patted at her clothes again, looking around her in a state of mild confusion. He was doing strange things to her, with his boyish looks and that lovely lock of hair that fell over his forehead. She really needed to get back to work before she lost herself completely. "Okay. Right," she said, trying to appear decisive. "Well, thank you very much for your help, Mr. er...?"

"John. You can call me John."

"And is 'John' your name?"

"Actually, it is." John grinned, pushing his hair back again. "Sorry."

"Nothing wrong with John," she laughed. "I'm Karen. That's pretty ordinary too. Uh..." she hesitated then, and blushed, "not that I'm saying you're ordinary, John. In fact, you look pretty unordinary to me. Er...if that's a word." Oh God, she was off again.

"I don't think it is. But I'll let you off, seeing as it sounded like a compliment."

His smile dazzled her.

"Oh, it was, it definitely was. I don't meet many handsome strangers in here, and certainly not in this section." Her eyes travelled quickly over his face, taking in all the details of his fine bone structure, his arched blond brows, his questioning blue eyes, his delicately curved mouth and his long, smooth neck, committing him to memory.

The way he seemed to be regarding her down his nose with his head tipped back, a faint smile playing over his lips.

He was almost feminine in his beauty.

Pull yourself together, woman, she scolded herself.

John shook his head, chuckled. He was a little unused to being stared at, but he had to admit it felt nice when a pretty girl was doing the staring. "You know, Karen, if you weren't working, I'd offer to buy you a coffee."

He what? He wanted to _see_ her?

She couldn't help what happened next.

She made direct, unabashed eye contact with him then. Her grey eyes looked straight into his blue ones with a sudden intensity that startled him, knocked him for six. He blinked, felt the heat creeping up his neck. He couldn't tear his gaze away. She looked around quickly to make sure no-one was coming, then she pushed John backwards into the stacks and up against the shelves and kissed him hard on the mouth, her hands gripping him firmly on either side of his face while his own hands flailed helplessly in mid air.

"What in...?" John exclaimed when at last she disengaged her mouth with a soft smack and pulled herself away. He stood leaning against the shelves, breathing hard, completely taken aback. His hands automatically went to his hair, frantically raking it back from his burning face. His lips throbbed and tingled, not, he had to admit, entirely unpleasantly. He could even taste her lipstick on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just...oh God, I'm sorry, I just had this urge..." She stepped back, her cheeks bright red.

John blinked his blue eyes, fixed her with a hard stare.

"Do you _always _do this kind of thing?"

"No! God, no. Never."

"Then, why..? I mean..." He honestly didn't know what to say. The woman had rendered him momentarily speechless, and he wasn't a big talker at the best of times.

Karen stood staring at him, shaking her head. "Because you..." she swallowed, blushing furiously. "Haven't you ever met someone and you just wanted them right away? Like, no hesitation, you just _wanted_ them?"

"Well, sure, but I never went ahead like that and just _did _it."

Oh God, she thought. He's not gay, is he? But he just asked me to go for a coffee...

Maybe he's just shy. That's got to be it. Oh Karen, you stupid woman. You scared the hell out of him!

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry. I acted totally without thinking." She stared at him in panic. "Guess that's the end of our would-be date, huh?"

John rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. "I don't know," he said, looking at her thoughtfully. "I mean, it wasn't the _worst_ thing that's ever happened to me, not by a long shot. It was just a bit...you know, _sudden_."

"I just liked the look of you. You look like a decent guy, and God knows there aren't many of them left."

Isn't that a bit of a typical generalisation, John wanted to say, but thought better of it. Instead he said, "but you don't know anything about me. We've barely exchanged names. I could be anyone."

And boy, would you be shocked if you knew the truth, he added silently.

"Okay, please John. Don't keep reminding me, I messed up. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"I didn't say you messed up, I just said you took me by surprise. I'm not really used to being, well, that's not the kind of thing that happens to me every day." John laughed resignedly. "Anyway, thanks for saying I look like a decent guy. I am a decent guy. Or at least, I do my best."

She lowered her eyes, glanced up at him hesitantly. "And I still want you," she admitted.

He had to admit, she was pretty desirable herself. And while her kiss had been sudden and unexpected, it was pretty flattering to have been accosted like that by someone who so obviously wanted him. He finally allowed himself to look at her appraisingly. He let his eyes drift over her face, let his gaze slide down her neck and over her shoulders. He didn't stare at her breasts. He lowered his eyes to her legs, let them linger a little on her hips and waist. He was a little unaccustomed to being quite this bold, but nevertheless not completely lacking in seduction techniques. He _was_ a Tracy, after all. And he had two full days left of shore leave.

He smiled at her, treating her to the full works.

"So. Ah...if we can maybe start over," he said. " What time do you finish work?"

She was more than relieved to find that he was waiting for her outside the library when she finally left at 4.30pm. He was sitting on a wall eating an apple, poised and graceful, his bright blond hair lit by the afternoon sun. His crisp white shirt was open at the collar, showing off his smooth, lightly tanned throat. She thought he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. He stood out from the crowd by a considerable mile. She went over to him, smiling broadly.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi," he replied. He held out his half eaten apple. She sank her teeth into it and bit off a huge chunk, squirting juice down her chin. It was delicious and sweet and just a little tart.

"Very nice," she mumbled, chewing.

"I like to get my five a day," he grinned, watching her eat.

"I bet you do. You look healthy enough, anyway." She flashed her eyes at him.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, hopping off the wall and slipping an arm around her waist. "Your place or mine?"

She took him to her place. John was very grateful that he didn't have to take her to the Tracy Enterprises hotel and explain why he was living in such sumptuous surroundings. Especially when her own apartment turned out to be something so much smaller and compact.

"Very nice," he said, standing in the tiny hallway from which all the other rooms branched. He meant it, too. It was light and airy for its size, with plants everywhere and pictures crowding the walls. "Cosy."

"It's very small, but I like it," she said, turning to face him.

"Small is beautiful," he smiled.

"What are you trying to tell me?" she smiled back.

John shrugged. "That a statement doesn't have to be big."

"Very cryptic." She approached him slowly. He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"So, who are you, John?" she asked, touching one of the buttons on his shirt, toying with it between her fingers. Her nails were painted purple. He hadn't noticed that detail before.

"I write books," he said. It was the truth. Not the whole truth, but he considered his books to be a major part of his life, regardless of International Rescue. "On Astronomy. And no," he added, on seeing her face, "you didn't drop any of mine."

She laughed with obvious delight. "Well, well! How fascinating! A real live author, right here in my apartment. Why didn't you _tell_ me in the library? I would have loved to have seen some of them." She slipped her fingertip between his buttons and daringly touched his skin.

"Ah, I think you had other things on your mind in the library," he said, smiling.

"Indeed," she said, pressing closer. "And I still do."

Okay John, no more games. It's time for action now. This woman wants you, and you are not about to let her go.

He lowered his head, ignoring the hair that immediately fell into his eyes, and let his lips touch hers.

She moaned softly. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, spreading his fingers over her back, feeling the small bones of her spine. It felt like she was moulded against him like plasticine, shaping her body to match every curve and angle of his.

He caressed her lips with his own, pulling back gently every time she attempted to deepen the kiss, teasing her, laughing softly at her eagerness. Then finally, when at last she acquiesced and allowed him to take the lead, he gently increased the pressure on her mouth, wrapping his arms around her in a strong and passionate embrace and holding her tightly to him, his fingers kneading her skin through the fabric of her blouse.

She sighed, returning his kiss with equal passion. She pulled him towards one of the doors leading from the hallway. He bumped into a plant stand and knocked it over.

"Leave it," she mumbled against his mouth as the plant and its soil spilled across the woven rug. She fumbled behind her for the door handle, he reached for it himself and pushed the door open. They stumbled over the threshold and tumbled onto the bed, sinking into the soft eiderdown. He rolled on top of her and pressed her down beneath him, kissing her hungrily, realising how long it had been since he had last made love to a woman. Too long. Too long for a Tracy boy, anyway. He was letting the side down.

She pulled his shirt out of his waistband and slid her hands underneath, running them over his back, his ribs, his smooth, hairless chest and his hard, flat stomach. He arched above her, groaning at the currents of electricity that coursed through him with every caress of her nimble fingers. She wound her legs around him.

"John," she whispered. "John..."

She fumbled at his belt buckle, tried to undo his trousers.

He moved her hand away and pinned it to the bed, and instead began dropping small, light kisses all over her face, dusting her cheeks with his lips and his hair, breathing warmly into her ear as she squirmed under him.

Together they pulled off each others' clothes piece by piece. There was a momentary crisis when John realised he'd forgotten to undo his cuffs and couldn't get his shirt sleeves over his hands.

"Dammit," he cursed, struggling on his knees with both hands trapped, causing her to giggle wildly and try to stop him from ripping the cuff buttons off altogether in a frenzy of impatience.

Well, there goes the Tracy cool.

She managed to get the buttons undone and kissed his flustered face as she sent the shirt flying across the room. With his hands now freed, he pulled at the buttons of her blouse while they kneeled together and kissed deeply, tongues entwined. He slipped the blouse off her shoulders and pulled it down her arms. They kissed some more, fingers tangled in each other's hair. And then John was at last able to stare at her breasts. Her bra was peach coloured and very lacy. Her breasts were held snugly within, two perfect creamy globes there for the taking. He blinked and flushed, almost dizzy with longing.

"You like what you see, John?" she teased.

Without a word, he fumbled with the clasp behind her back.

And fumbled.

"Damn it," he muttered. It was more difficult to undo a bra without looking than he remembered. He pulled her forward a little unceremoniously and peered over her shoulder to see what he was doing.

She couldn't help laughing when at last John managed to remove the offending item, pulling it off her and triumphantly holding it aloft.

"Do they really need that many hooks and eyes?" he wondered aloud. Then he flung the bra aside in disgust.

"And now, they're all yours," she purred.

He stared at them as though they were the most magnificent treasures he'd ever seen. Then he stroked her left breast slowly, feeling the soft weight of it. He took the other breast in his other hand and began kneaded them both together. He gazed directly into her eyes. She sighed and squirmed, her lips parting softly. He kissed her. He sucked at her full lower lip, nibbling it with his teeth. She mewed like a kitten.

She fumbled again for his belt buckle. This time he had no intention of stopping her. Together they worked frantically until every last vestige of their clothing had been removed and tossed aside. Then they just stared at each other, spellbound.

John was glad now that he made full use of the gyms both on Thunderbird 5 and Tracy Island. He didn't have Scott's powerful build, but he was lithe and supple without an ounce of fat. His shoulders weren't as broad, but they were strong. His arms were well toned. He had fine collarbones, a flat stomach and a nicely tapered waist. And he had to admit, he had some pretty good pecs and a nice peachy butt. Or so he had been told, once upon a time.

They shared a deep, wet, lingering kiss that threatened to detonate John entirely. He couldn't remember who the last woman was who had kissed him like this. His tongue forged its way deep inside her mouth, his lips crushed bruisingly against hers.

"I have a confession to make," he uttered breathlessly. "I haven't...ah..._been_ with anyone in months."

"Oh John!" she laughed, her eyes wet with the intensity of her desire. "Neither have I!"

"I want you so much," he went on. "I just..._need_ to..."

She raked her purple nails down his back. "Me too..." she murmured. "Me too..."

She welcomed him with open arms.

Afterwards, they lay together with John still on top, covered in sweat and breathing hard.

"That was incredible," she whispered happily.

He had to laugh, despite his lack of breath.

"I think we both needed it, huh?" she added, nuzzling her face into his hair.

"Mmmm. Mm-hmm." He didn't want to move from her gentle embrace.

"You're amazing," she crooned.

"So are you," he muttered into the blankets. " I really think I could just about lie here forever."

"Mmm," she agreed. The weight of him pressing down on her was very comforting.

She carried on twirling strands of his hair around her fingers until she became aware of a soft buzzing sound near her ear. She realised then that John had actually fallen asleep and was snoring gently through his nose which was pressed against her neck.

She eased quietly out from underneath him and let him settle himself onto the bed. He hardly moved at all, just his arms and one of his legs. His blond forelock covered his eyes. She swept it back but it fell forward again, making her smile. Her gaze travelled down the length of his smooth back, the indented valley of his spine, the gentle curve as it rose again over his buttocks. God, he had a gorgeous ass. She wanted to sink her teeth into it. Instead, she just leaned down and kissed him lightly on one cheek. His skin was soft and slightly fuzzy, just like a peach. Had she _ever_ desired a man this much after just one meeting?

She left him slumbering quietly and got up from the bed, pulling on her robe.

He was going to be hungry when he woke up.

* * *

_And so ends Chapter One. Thanks for staying with me so far! As promised, I will be updating regularly. Your reviews would be absolutely lovely if you can spare a minute, I'd love to know what you think. Too raunchy? Just raunchy enough? Gotta be careful, I guess...although that John does do funny things to my imagination!g_

_See you again soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Here we go with chapter 2. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far with words of appreciation for John Tracy's performance in Chapter 1. He really begins getting into his stride from now on..._

_I'd like to add Alaina to the dedications for being there for John way before I was. And Chris, yes he does hover around your peripheral until you gradually start noticing him. it's always the quiet ones!_

_And Pen, and lamsey, welcome aboard._

_Again, Rated M for sexual content and some swearing. _

#####

John felt himself slowly roused from a deep sleep by the bed moving gently.

Karen was kneeling beside him, trailing her fingers lightly up and down his back.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, lying there with his eyes shut, letting the situation sink into his befuddled brain. He had met this woman just today. Just a mere few hours ago. And here he was, naked as a jaybird in her bed, having had the most incredible sex with her and then falling fast asleep, oblivious to the world. He didn't even know her surname, and she hadn't yet asked for his.

How long was_ this_ idyllic scene going to last?

He smiled as the palm of her hand slid over one of his buttocks. They just seemed to go for that part of his anatomy. Well...that and the other.

"Mmm." he murmured. "Nice."

"So. You _are_ awake." She squeezed gently.

"Mmm." He shifted slightly, letting her know he was enjoying her ministrations.

She bent down to nuzzle her lips against the short blond hairs at the back of his neck. Her auburn curls cascaded over his face. Her breath whisked hotly past his ear. "I'm making us something to eat," she said. "I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

"'Cause I'm assuming you'll be staying."

"Oh. Huh. I guess."

She laughed softly, nibbled his earlobe. "Could you be a little more vocal?" she asked teasingly.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, inhaling the scent of it. "No."

"You'll stay, though. Right? At least for something to eat."

He rolled over at last, pulled a pillow behind his head. She propped herself on his chest, smiling at his sleepy expression, his heavy-lidded, half-closed eyes. "Whatcha makin'?" he asked.

"Steak sandwiches. And French fries."

John grinned appreciatively. She had unwittingly stumbled upon the Tracy men's weakness for slabs of meat in all its forms. Steak sandwiches were definitely on his list of all-time favourite things to eat.

"Well, lady, that settles it." He traced a finger across her lips. " I guess you've got yourself a house guest."

She kissed him gently on the mouth. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her down to lie fully on top of him. He opened his mouth, slid his tongue between her lips. She responded the same way, sucking and biting gently, undulating her hips against his. She appeared _more_ than ready for round two.

She broke away from his mouth, began kissing his throat, then she moved down his body, kissing and licking him all over. He closed his eyes, breathing slow and hard. Jeez, he'd only just woken up and she was ravishing him again!

Not that he was complaining. Pretty soon he'd be stuck in that satellite again, staring out of the window at the blue globe of the Earth when he knew he would rather be staring at the pale globes of this woman's breasts. He could find himself celibate for months again if he wasn't careful.

He lifted his head from the pillow and watched her work her slow way down his body. She dipped the tip of her tongue into his navel. He stroked her hair, playing with long curly strands, pulling threads of it between his fingers. She grinned at him naughtily when she realised he was watching her intently.

"You like this?" she smiled seductively.

"Uh..."

His head dropped back onto the pillow. His fingers tightened in her hair. Please, he thought desperately. Please. Just do it. _Now._

As if reading his thoughts, she dipped her head. He gasped at the sensations. How long since he'd had _this_ happen?

He shuddered, lifting his hips towards her.

She pulled her head up and smiled at him. Her hair was in her eyes. She looked slightly wild. He groaned deeply, gripped her head for dear life.

At that same moment he became aware of a smell. A smell of burning. And just as the realisation hit them both, the smoke alarm went off with a shrill series of screaming bleeps that pierced his muddled brain and sat him instantly upright, pushing Karen's head away from him before she bit off a certain part of his anatomy that he was going to need later.

He bolted off the bed. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and struggled into them as he half ran, half hopped through the open bedroom doorway.

"The French fries," Karen cried, grabbing her robe and following him. "It's just the French fries."

He didn't have to ask where the kitchen was. Smoke was drifting out of the door in lazy wisps. He ran in, wafting his hands in front of his face. He fumbled with the oven knobs, finding the right one and switching it off. "Open the window," he instructed, somewhat abruptly. Karen did as he said, unlatching the window above the sink and pushing it open as far as it went.

He threw her a towel. "Here, go wave this under the alarm, clear the smoke away from it."

She went back into the hallway and waved the towel as he'd instructed. The shrill beeping finally stopped, but she kept waving the towel, afraid that if she paused the ear-splitting noise would just start up again.

The smell was horrible. Their dinner was ruined and her new friend was hopping around the kitchen with his trousers half on and half off, probably burning his hands to a crisp.

No wonder she was still single.

She heard clattering pans and the oven door slam and guessed that he'd taken out the burnt French fries. She stopped waving the towel at the now silent smoke alarm and went over to hover in the doorway.

He was standing at the counter surrounded by clouds of smoke, prodding at the charred remains of their dinner with a fork.

"Are they completely ruined?" she asked tentatively.

"Yep, 'fraid so. The top ones are trashed and the ones underneath are like wood chips." To demonstrate, he dropped a few onto the counter. They clattered like small dried out bones. "Maybe we should have just called for takeout."

He was looking round at her with that expression of his. Like he was getting the measure of her. But she still wanted to run her fingers through that mop of hair, kiss him so fiercely that he forgot to breathe. She stood dumbstruck, feeling like the most incompetent woman the world had ever seen.

"But I make really good steak sandwiches," she protested.

"I don't know if I could trust you to open a jar of pickles," he replied bluntly, that faint smile still on his lips.

Her eyes widened. Was he playing with her? What was he doing? He was so hard to read!

"Are you _mad_ with me?" she asked. She felt more miserable than she'd ever felt in her life. All because of a lousy pan of French fries.

"Don't you have a kitchen timer?"

"I don't know. I guess there's one on the oven."

He raised his eyebrows. "I know you think I'm overreacting."

She shrugged. "Maybe just a bit. It's not like anything was on fire."

He put his hands on his hips, tilted his head to one side. "Well that's okay then, if nothing was on _fire_."

She lost it a bit then. If he was going to be sarcastic!

"All right, I burnt the dinner. Sue me! In fact, why don't you just piss off_?"_ she snapped. She stormed off back to the bedroom, but halfway there she swung around and returned to the kitchen. "I'm sorry," she said, almost without taking a breath. "I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't," he replied, hardly seeming ruffled by her outburst at all. "It's okay."

"I just thought you were being sarcastic."

"I was. But I thought you were just being flippant."

"I didn't _intend_ to burn them, you know."

"I know. I guess we both got a little, ah... distracted."

She glanced sideways at him. "You acted like the whole place was going to burn down."

"It could have been, for all I knew. Have you ever_ had_ a fire in your kitchen?"

"No, I haven't." Don't give me a lecture, she thought silently. Don't say you're a part time firefighter or anything like that. "Just the odd...you know, incident now and again, Toast, usually." She shrugged defensively.

"Okay, look," he said, pushing back his hair and casting a last forlorn look at the charred French fries. "Let's forget the whole thing. Let's just make those steak sandwiches, hey?"

He held out one hand in a gesture of conciliation. She stepped forward into his arms.

"Maybe I did overreact. I'm sorry," he said gently. "I can sound a bit, um...businesslike sometimes. I don't mean to come over as bossy."

"I was trying to make a good impression," she confessed. "Believe it or not."

He laughed into her hair. "But you have made a good impression," he smiled. "I'm not likely to forget _you_ in a hurry."

His hands worked their way into her robe.

"Maybe we should just call out for pizza," she conceded.

"And while we're waiting for it, maybe we should just go back to bed."

She purred as his hands slid down her hips and pulled her close.

"For once, I'm in total agreement."

They lay in bed eating their large pizza straight out of the delivery box and sharing a bottle of wine. Karen had spread out a towel so that the sheets didn't get dirty, which was just as well because there were crumbs and bits of cheese everywhere. John was sitting against the headboard, propped up by a mound of pillows. Karen was leaning against him with her head on his chest, her legs bent and raised, idly bumping her knees together as she ate.

"So, John, have you always been into astronomy?" she asked, peeling off a strip of red pepper.

"Yup. Always. Since I was probably around five years old."

"Wow. So you've always known what you wanted to do." She dangled the pepper over her mouth, dropped it in.

"Pretty much so, I guess." He picked red pepper off his own slice and dropped it into her mouth at the same time. She made murmuring noises as she chewed.

"You're lucky. I never knew what I wanted to do. It changed from one minute to the next. First a vet, then a ballerina, then a doctor, then a construction worker, of all things, because I saw a cartoon of one on the television. Bob The Builder, it was called."

"And what did you end up doing?" he asked, inspecting a circle of rubbery pepperoni.

"Drifting, mainly," she laughed. "Doing all kinds of mundane jobs as long as it paid the rent."

"Well, plenty of people do that." John hoped she didn't probe any further into his history. He didn't want to mention that his father was a billionaire who could afford anything he wanted. Even though _he_ knew his father was a good, decent hardworking man.

And of course, the founder of International Rescue. But there was no way he could even _think _about mentioning any of that.

"It would have been nice to have had a goal, though."

"I hope it's not something you beat yourself up over."

"Oh...sometimes. When I start wondering why I don't own any property or why I'm not married yet or..." she stopped suddenly. She sat up and turned to face him, looking panicked. "Don't take that the wrong way," she said hurriedly. "I'm not trying to get a man, you know, trap one so that I can get married or anything." she blushed furiously, cursing herself.

John grinned. He chewed pizza and held up his left hand, waggling his ring finger. "No wedding band has ever graced this finger either, honey," he mumbled around his food. "Plenty of time for all that."

"Handsome guy like you and you're still single. That's what I find so amazing."

John sucked grease off his fingers. "Writing's a very solitary profession," he mused. "I spend weeks at a time on my own. Sometimes I don't even notice whole days going by."

"Intriguing." She smiled. "You're an enigmatic man, John. John...?"

There she was, fishing for his last name. It wouldn't hurt to tell her though. After all, she only had to find one of his books in the library. He didn't write under pen names or pseudonyms.

"Tracy," he replied.

If he was expecting a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, there wasn't any. He was relieved.

"John Tracy," she murmured, trying his name on for size. She studied him thoughtfully. "It suits you. You look like a John Tracy."

"And what about you? What are you called, besides Karen?"

"Meadows," she replied. "Which I actually quite like. It makes me think of a sunny summer day in the country."

"And that's exactly what you look like. A sunny summer day in the country."

"John!" she giggled, flushing bright red.

He grinned back, pleased with himself. Not bad, Tracy.

She picked up her glass and swallowed a mouthful of wine, teasing him with her eyes.

He waited for her to put her glass down on the bedside table. As soon as she let go of it he gripped the back of her head, pulled her forward and kissed her hard, holding her face steady with the other hand. He crushed his mouth against hers, bruising her lips, tasting peppers and salt and cheese and wine.

Startled, she dropped the crust of pizza she was still holding and wrapped both arms around him, returning the kiss once she had got over the initial shock of him grabbing her like that. They fell back onto the pillows, locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately, all other trains of thought forgotten.

His hands were all over her. She squirmed and giggled as he hit ticklish spots near her ribs, and murmured her appreciation when he stroked her flanks and outer thighs.

His foot accidentally kicked the pizza box. "Um..." he mumbled, "you wanna lose that pizza?"

"Sure thing." She pushed herself off him and closed the pizza box, moving it onto the floor. She picked up the towel and shook the crumbs out, spraying them all over the bed.

"Doesn't that kind of defeat the object?" he asked, watching her curiously.

"Screw it," she responded. "I'm not wasting_ any _more time."

She threw the towel on the floor and fell onto him again. He rolled her over onto her back, growling deep in his throat.

"Oh _my_, you're an animal," she smiled delightedly.

"You bring out the beast in me," he breathed, nibbling at her collarbone.

And then his wrist comm started beeping.

"Oh, what the...!" he groaned. He buried his head in a pillow, uttering muffled curses.

"What? What is it? Is that an alarm?"

When he had taken off his wrist comm, she had commented on it being a strange looking watch. He had told her it was a limited edition Casio that he'd been presented with at a literary convention. She'd seemed quite satisfied with that explanation, and he'd put the comm on the table and left it there without a second thought. On shore leave there was never much communication between base and the vacationing Tracy unless it was absolutely necessary.

He hoped to God this wasn't an emergency. What could he do from here anyway?

He picked up the comm and peered at the screen.

"It's my brother," he muttered. She watched him fiddling with it for a moment or two.

"Your brother's calling you on your watch?"

"Yeah, it functions a bit like a BlackBerry. You remember BlackBerries? They preceded the BlueBerry."

"Uh huh. So what does he want, your brother?"

John looked up. "What? You don't believe me? You think I've got a secret girlfriend? Think it's my wife wanting to know what time I'll be home from the office?"

She kicked him. "Stop it, that's not funny."

"It's my brother. He called me at my hotel room but I wasn't there, so he's just checking I'm okay. It's fine, really. He just gets a little over-protective. Tell you the truth, he gets a little anal about these things." He pressed a few more buttons, or things that she couldn't see, then he frowned at the thing, pressed one last button in a very decisive manner, and threw it back onto the table. "Hopefully, that's the last we'll hear from_ him_ tonight."

He eased her back down onto the bed and resumed kissing her, prising her legs apart with his thigh. She sighed happily, lifting her hips.

"Your hotel room?" she asked then.

No, _please._ No more interruptions.

"I'm on vacation." he replied.

"So you don't live in the city?"

"No. I'm a _long_ way from home."

A look came into her eyes that she tried hard to conceal, but he saw it straight away. All the Tracy boys had seen that look at some time in their lives.

It said I might never see you again. And sadly, in most cases it was true.

"Listen," he said softly. "We've just met. We know zilch about each other besides our names. I'm really enjoying being with you, and I'm guessing you're pretty keen on me too. Let's just see where it takes us, okay?"

She nodded. "You're right, of course. That's what we were doing anyway, right?"

"I told you I was a decent guy. I said I do my best. And that stays true, no matter what the situation."

She toyed with his hair, loving the way it kept falling forward. "I know," she said.

He kissed her again.

This time, nothing was going to get in his way.

He took her hand and guided it back to where it had been. "Remember what you were doing before?" he murmured, kissing her neck.

She grinned. "You men are _all_ the same."

"Mmm hmmm. Sex and food, that's all we want."

"Well, you've had your food..."

He narrowed his eyes at her, pushed her down into the blankets. "And now I want some _serious _sex."

"My, you are _dirty_, John Tracy."

Oh yeah. He was remembering what it was all about.

"Come on," he smiled. "Roll over."

Without a word she complied. A shiver went through her as he settled over her and began kissing her shoulderblades, licking and biting. He slipped a hand under her and rubbed her breast. He bit the side of her neck. She felt the tickle of his hair on her face. He let go of her breast and braced himself with his hands either side of her head. She heard him breathing hard above her.

She moaned with unashamed lust. Electric tingles buzzed through her, she was so turned on. She moaned with her face pressed into the sheets, bracing herself with her arms outstretched, handfuls of the blankets grasped in both fists, feeling helpless under the weight of him as he moved steadily on top of her. Helpless under his onslaught.

This time, when it was all over, neither of them even had the strength to speak. They lay gasping and exhausted, shaking in the aftermath of what had felt like a hurricane and an earthquake mixed together, with a good helping of blazing inferno on top.

Finally she let out a low chuckle, rippling beneath him as she laughed.

"That was _incredible, _John Tracy._"_ She smiled. "You really are something else..."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks again to **everyone** who has reviewed so far and left such kind and encouraging comments. It seems everyone's all for Johnny getting some action...all that time spent in TB5 must be very frustrating for a red-blooded Tracy male!_

_I'm still not sure exactly how far one can go with an M-Rating. Which parts of the body can or can't be mentioned? Can you mention n*ppl*s? Can you mention the male organ, but with a non-offensive word like 'member', or 'manhood'? *grins*_

**_Another thing about this site, it tends to close up the spaces between paragraphs, so I was advised by mcj (thanks Marg) to insert these ## or something to space out where I needed to. So I am going to start doing that from this chapter onwards._**

####

It was late. The bedroom was in darkness except for a dim streetlight glow against the closed curtains. Karen and John lay with their limbs entwined, the sheets draped loosely over their hips. John's soft breathing dusted her skin. The heat radiating from him made her feel soothed and comforted.

They were both awake.

She nestled closer, touched her lips to his collarbone, the hollow that lay above it. He closed his arm around her, played gently with her hair, loosely twirling it around his fingers.

"So, when do you go home?" she asked at last.

John knew it had been on her mind. He didn't need to be a genius to know she was wondering how much longer they'd have to be together.

"Sunday," he replied. "And then back to work on Monday."

Sunday. The day after tomorrow. And it was nearly tomorrow now.

"I thought you worked for yourself?"

"I said I was a writer," he smiled. "I didn't say I worked for myself. I've got a boss who demands I stick to my deadlines come hell or high water."

"And what are you working on right now?" she snuggled even closer, breathing in his distinctive scent- a lingering memory of some slightly spicy aftershave.

"Right now? A series of articles for Astronomy Today on gas formations and streams between and around the Magellanic Clouds." He said it rather grandly.

"Huh?" she giggled.

"Come on now," he shook her shoulder. "Don't feign ignorance."

"What and where are the Magellanic Clouds?"

"They're two dwarf galaxies nearby and orbiting the Milky Way."

"And what's so special about them?"

"Well, the theory used to be that they were created by our galaxy, but then discoveries earlier this century suggested they were wholly independent structures ruled by their own dynamics."

"You even _sound_ like a book," she teased him.

"Hey. _You _asked."

"I know. And I think it's wonderful, really. To be so knowledgeable. You're almost a scientist, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't know about that," he chuckled. "Astronomer, maybe. A little electronics. But not a scientist."

"Hey. It's all swings and roundabouts to me."

"So, are you gonna look me up? In the library?" He kissed the top of her head- then had to pull several long strands of her hair out of his mouth.

"Of course I am. You know that. I want to read all about these Magellanic Clouds of yours."

"No, you want to read the sexy stuff. Cosmic rays and solar winds. Supernovas and Black Holes that suck everything in. Forget your television soap operas, it's all going on out there in Space."

"Tell me how Black Holes suck everything in," she grinned, biting him gently on the shoulder. "Do they suck hard?"

"They suck harder than anything you've ever known," he said in the most serious tone he could muster.

"I bet they don't suck harder than me."

"Hmmm. Let me think. Total gravitational collapse versus Karen Meadows' deep throat technique. Well, you could be right. It's a close one."

She laughed softly, butted him with her head. "So do you have plans for tomorrow, mister? Seeing as it's your last day of vacation."

"I didn't make any plans whatever," he told her. "Vacation time comes around so rarely that I never quite know what to do with it. Why, you got something in mind, missy?"

"I don't work Saturdays, so...ah...if you wanted to, you could...maybe just hang out with me? We could take a picnic to the park."

"I'd have to drop by the hotel, first. Get a change of clothes and check in with.." he nearly said Base, but caught himself at the last minute. "...home."

"Okay, well, think about it. It would be nice to spend the day with you. If you want."

If I want? John thought to himself. What are my options. Spend the day with a gorgeous girl, or kick around on my own counting down the last hours of shore leave until I have to fly back up into space?

No contest.

"Sure," he agreed. "That sounds great."

####

The next morning they showered together. The shower cubicle was too small for anything other than standing upright and close, but that seemed to suit them just fine. John lathered up some fragrant shower cream and rubbed it over her shoulders, massaging her back and sliding soapy hands over her breasts. Water cascaded from her tangled curls. He soaped her stomach and slipped his fingers between her legs. He washed her thoroughly, enjoying her soft moans. She was becoming aroused. He went down on his knees and touched his tongue to her sensitive flesh.

She gripped his head, stroked his wet hair. She parted her thighs and let him push his face between them. His tongue worked expertly, sliding back and forth against the tender folds. He flicked at the hard little nub with the tip of his tongue. He inserted of his beautiful long fingers into her and worked it against her G-Spot.

He knew _exactly_ where it was.

She moaned desperately. She put one hand out and steadied herself against the tiled wall. Water streamed over her and cascaded from her hair onto his face. She writhed her hips, staring down at him. He was stroking himself with his other hand, long fingers caressing almost lovingly. She watched, fixated, through eyes half-blinded with streaming water and lust.

This blond god was down on his knees in front of her in the shower. Christ, when exactly _had_ her Fairy Godmother arrived and waved her magic wand?

"Uhhh..." she uttered, clutching his head, sliding herself over his tongue. She was going to come, any minute.

She shuddered as the intense waves of pleasure burst over her, emanating from between her legs and radiating up and down and outwards. She yowled loudly, rubbing herself all over his face, every contact with his skin bringing more spasms of untold ecstasy. His finger probed deep, causing waves of excitement like a mini neutron bomb going off inside her.

She was overwhelmed by these sensations. They seemed to be going on forever. She looked down at the way he was still ministering to himself. She crouched down, straddled his thighs, kissed his wet lips tenderly, took his hand and rubbed it hard against herself.

"Please..." she begged. "I need more."

John smiled naughtily. "Kinda insatiable, aren't you?" he teased, desire darkening his eyes. He held his erection in one hand and worked the other against her for a few moments, listening to her soft groans. Her head tipped back, exposing her pale throat. He pulled wet ropes of hair away from her neck and shoulders and pressed his lips under her jaw, licking and nibbling.

She murmured in her throat as she felt the sheer size of him pushing slowly into her. She helped him out by lowering herself as he pushed upwards. He asked if she was okay. She nodded wordlessly, muttered something unintelligible. He laughed huskily, horny to the point of exploding.

He struggled to his knees, ignoring the pain caused by the hard cubicle floor. He pushed up against the wall. There was barely room to manoeuvre but he managed to get her into position. He gripped her buttocks from underneath. There was an awkward tangle of limbs and he thought he would fall off balance at any minute. They would go flying out of the shower cubicle and land in a heap on the bathroom floor.

She purred softly as he slid slowly out, then slowly in. With each slow thrust he entered a little deeper.

"You're so damned beautiful," he whispered.

"So are you," she moaned. "You're like a Michaelangelo sculpture."

He thrust further, enjoying her soft squeals and gasps of pain and pleasure. He watched her intently. His knees were sore and burning against the cubicle floor. He increased his speed a little. He thrust hard, all the way in. She squealed out loud. At the same time she ground herself down onto him, gripping his shoulders for dear life.

He thrust faster, banging her against the cubicle wall. She moaned and cried out like a banshee.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, yes...yes!"

He was driving her crazy with lust. She bounced hard up and down, gripping and releasing him over and over again. He thrust deeper and harder, feeling the pressure building up and up inside his thighs and stomach. He wasn't sure who came first this time, but before long they were both shaking violently with their own climaxes. Her head fell onto his shoulder, her hair cascaded down his back. He thrust hard, one last time, and then sank to the cubicle floor, holding onto her as though his life depended on it.

They embraced quietly while the water continued to rain down on them. Finally John withdrew and helped her to her feet. They both rose a little stiffly on sore, cramped legs.

"Another awesome performance," she smiled, her cheeks pink and flushed, her grey eyes smoky with satisfaction.

"Where would I be without my faithful sidekick?" he replied, kissing her nose, stroking her back as the water pattered softly off the tiles.

She laughed, swatted his chest. "Go on and get dried off," she said, sweetly. "I need to wash my hair."

He grabbed a towel and left the bathroom, lazily rubbing his wet hair. He padded naked into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He picked up his wrist comm and sent a private signal to Scott. Let the big guy see me sitting here buck naked and wet from the shower, fresh from some seriously hot sex, he thought mischievously. He's not the only Tracy that scores on vacation!

Come on, Scott, answer. You'll be wearing your damn wrist comm. You never take that thing off.

Sure enough, Scott's face appeared on screen within moments. His darkly handsome features rearranged themselves into a look of surprise as he saw his younger brother's state of undress and his wet hair sticking up.

"Hey there, Scott, how's it going?" John said breezily. "Not working too hard, I hope?"

Scott ignored John's question completely. "Guess I don't need to ask you how _you _are. Oh- and by the way, thanks for that message last night. I'd just like to let you know that if I _could_, believe me I would- it would save me a whole heck of a lot of trouble." He smiled sweetly.

"I've always known it, Scotty boy."

"So, are you having a good time?"

"You know, Scott? I am. I really am."

"And the name of this good time would be?"

"I don't want to say. I don't want to jinx things."

Scott raised his eyebrows. "_Jinx_ things? What are you saying, this isn't just a holiday fling?"

"Scott, I don't have holiday flings. _You_ do."

"Well. Don't forget you're coming home tomorrow," Scott said slowly. "Don't be going AWOL on us."

"I'm not going AWOL on anybody. I'm just having a great time, is all. It makes a frickin' change, for once."

"Okay, I was just saying."

"So, you still coming to pick me up at the airport?"

"Sure. I'll be there at noon. You'll come back to Base and then I'll take you up to Thunderbird 5 on Monday morning."

"I can't say I'm looking forward to it this time," John sighed. "But, duty calls, I guess."

"Yeah, we're duty-bound, little brother. Still, I think it's nice that you met somebody to have a good time with. I was starting to become convinced you were a monk in a former life."

"I'm a monk in _this_ life, Scott." John heard the shower being turned off and Karen moving around in the bathroom. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Gotta go, Scott, she'll be here any minute."

"Okay, John. Take care, have a great day. I'll see you tomorrow." Scott abruptly switched off the link. John threw his wrist comm back onto the bedside table, got up off the bed and busied himself getting dressed. He'd managed to pull his trousers on and was standing there in his open unbuttoned shirt when Karen came into the bedroom.

"Hey, sexy," she smiled, taking in his dishevelled appearance, his damp and uncombed hair. "You look hot."

He scratched the back of his head. "Got a comb?"

"Sure, here." She opened the drawer next to the bed, took out a comb. She looked him over, a smile playing on her lips. "Here, sit down. Let me do it."

Obediently he sat. She perched beside him, a little gingerly he noticed, and began combing his hair, taking care not to tug any knots. She combed it over his ears, took the long floppy fringe and tamed it back. He closed his eyes, enjoying the scratchy, tickling feeling all over his scalp.

She moved behind him and continued combing. She patted his hair down as she moved over each section of his head. "I love your hair," she said. "It's so soft."

"I inherited some kind of rogue Swedish gene, I think," he smiled. "At least, that's what my father told me."

"You're not all blond gods in your family?"

"No. I got lucky, I guess."

"You sure did." She finished combing and smoothed his hair down, then loosely pulled her fingers through it. "Wow, look at you. You look like a male model."

"A male model?" he grimaced. "Aren't they all gay?"

"Yes, John. They're _all_ gay."

He laughed, and pulled her down onto the bed. "You're a kinky little thing, aren't you?"

She smiled up at him. That little blond forelock had already worked its way loose and was hanging down over his eye. He looked so beautiful, staring down at her with half closed eyes and that supremely kissable mouth.

He bent his head and kissed her.

####

They were in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Karen was making him eggs and bacon and an omelette for herself. John helped out by making mounds of buttered toast. For two people that had only just met, they worked around each other pretty well in the small space they were forced to share.

She put a pot of strong coffee on to brew and poured two tall glasses of orange juice. He stood leaning against the table chewing a piece of toast, pulling off bits of the crust. The smell of frying bacon assailed his nostrils, making them flare. His mouth watered.

"You know, we could just take it easy today," she mused out loud, flipping the strips of bacon over.

"Just go with the flow, you know?"

"Uh-huh." He carried on eating his toast, inspecting a lump of butter that hadn't quite melted, poking it with his fingertip.

"Hello? Earth to John?"

He licked the butter off his finger, smiled to himself. If only she knew how relevant that phrase was going to be in two days time.

"Sure, I heard."

"We could go over to your hotel, maybe have a drink in the bar later."

"We could."

"Talkative, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh." He finished his piece of toast and looked around for another one.

She scooped bacon out of the frying pan and heaped it onto a plate. She put the plate under the grill to keep warm and cracked an egg into the hot fat. It spluttered and spat at her. She uttered an expletive and jumped back.

"Careful," he said. "Here, I'll get those." He moved forward to help but she swatted him back.

"No, it's okay, I'm fine," she said briskly. "You get the coffee."

He noticed her movements were a little jerky. "You know, I really don't like to ask, Karen, but are you all right?"

"Sure, I'm fine." She pushed the frying egg around the pan, ignoring the spits of fat. She chewed her lip, then took a deep breath. "Actually, John, I guess I am just a _little_ sore. It's not every day I get thoroughly abused by such an offensive weapon."

John nearly spat an entire mouthful of orange juice across the room. He clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle a burst of giggles. He turned away from her but she could still see his shoulders shaking.

"Yes, laugh away, Hot Shot. You're bigger than you realise, and I've been out of practise for nearly nine months."

That only made him laugh more. Tears sprang from his eyes, he rubbed them away with the heel of his hand. He went over and put his arms round her from behind. "I don't know whether to feel sorry for you, or flattered that you think I'm so well endowed," he said, nuzzling her neck, still giggling.

She piled bacon and eggs onto a plate. "Here, eat your breakfast," she muttered, thrusting the plate at him.

He sat at the table and picked up his fork. She watched him grinning to himself. He heaped his fork with food, but then got such a fit of the giggles it prevented him from eating. His shoulders heaved as he bent over his plate, fork clutched in one hand. His laughter was boyish and infectious. The food fell off his fork and landed on the table. For some reason that made him laugh even more. She had never seen anyone so amused with himself. She stood watching him, shaking her head.

Finally he looked up at her, his face pink and shining. "I'm sorry," he spluttered, his dark blue eyes wet with tears.

"Yes, well." she said sternly. "The next time I get carried away with my demands, just remind me of this moment, won't you."

Their eyes met as she realised what she'd just said. _The next time..._

She looked away, busied herself with whipping up some eggs for an omelette. She heard him begin eating in silence, the scrape of his cutlery against the plate.

Such a cosy, domestic scene, she thought. Lulling us both into a false sense of security. Damn it! Why does life have to be so difficult?

She made her omelette, carried it over to the table. She lowered herself delicately onto her chair. "_Don't_ say anything," she warned him.

He drank his coffee quietly, but she saw the twinkle in his eye. It made her feel as though someone had just squeezed her heart.

"Best breakfast ever," he declared, buttering yet another slice of toast.

"It's just bacon and eggs," she shrugged, lifting a chunk of omelette to her lips.

"Well, I normally eat breakfast, a) alone, or b) with a table full of greedy guys who can't keep their hands off each others' plates," he told her. "Believe me, this is the nicest, most civilised meal I've shared with anyone in a long time."

She blushed. "Thank you, John," she said. "It's the nicest meal I've shared in a long time, too."

"So," he went on. "How come no boyfriend?"

"I had one," she said with a frown. "Until he discovered my best friend."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. They moved in together and that's the last I saw of either of them. Well, I see her occasionally, but the bitch won't even look at me. Sorry- I shouldn't still be so angry."

"Understandable."

"I should have done more to stop what was happening. I mean, you know, I should have kicked ass, but instead I just collapsed."

Shit, Karen, she thought to herself. What are you doing, telling him all this? You want him to think you're a pathetic jerk?

"It's easy to look back though," he said gently. "We all know things we should have done. In fact, sometimes we spend too much time thinking what we _should_ have done, building up our regrets and forgetting about our triumphs."

"Yeah, you're right, of course."

"Besides," he smiled, "I don't think it did you any lasting damage. You kicked _my_ ass in the library yesterday. I didn't know what hit me. Some gorgeous stranger grabs me and kisses my face off right out of the blue. That's one memory that's going straight into the 'Things I'll Never Forget' file."

She flushed scarlet. "I'll never live that down," she said ruefully. "I've never done anything like that. Not ever. Not even when I met my boyfriend. It was three whole days before I kissed _him_. And you were pretty shocked, at first."

"Sure was," he said. "I only went in there to look at rotating neutron stars, and I ended up with a big bang." he tapped out a drumbeat and cymbal clash with his knife and fork against his plate and glass. "Bada-_bing_."

"Oh, John," she grinned. "It must have been the effect you had on me. You were such a gentleman, helping me with my books. Of course, now I know differently." She winked.

"Hey, you're the one who can't get enough."

"I know. But _you're_ the one with the irresistibly hot body."

He gave her a lazy, lascivious up-and-down look. "Not from where I'm sitting."

"Oh well, I daresay I'll be fine. I just need a little more practise."

"You know what they say."

"And an ice pack for the after effects."

"And a cushion to sit on the next morning."

She laughed. He laughed. She gazed fondly into his eyes, wondering where he had come from, to get under her skin this way after such a short space of time. She thought of the song, What A Difference A Day Makes.

24 little hours.

She was going to miss him terribly when he was gone.

####

_They will, of course, both be back in Chapter 4..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Big hello again to everyone- Fran, Spev, Donna, Alaina (Pimp John T.), Lamsey, Sam__, Chris, Pen (she's groped Shane Rimmer!) Marg, Lee, all at TIWF._

_Everyone who has read and reviewed so brilliantly , encouraging me to go further and further each time Karen and John get it on. And still managing not to mention naughty bits by name. In your_ face_, ffic net- what's wrong with an NC-17 rating anyway?_

_Right, without further ado, here's Chapter 4 :-)_

_####_

Breakfast was finished. John drained the last of his orange juice, put the glass down with a theatrical clunk and sat back with his hands on his stomach, his lean legs stretched out under the table. He smiled happily at her.

"Thank you," he said. "That was very nice."

"You're most welcome," she smiled back.

He regarded her silently with his head tilted slightly to one side.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She nudged his bare foot with hers.

"I'm making a star map of your face," he replied. "If I put an imaginary grid over it, I can create reference points for each of your features, calculate the angles between them and accurately plot their positions. Then, on Monday when I'm sitting at my desk bored out of my skull, I can think of you instead of making sculptures out of paper clips."

"Oh, John!" she proclaimed, her eyes wide. "I think I'm going to cry."

The funny thing was, she really did think she was going to cry. No-one had ever said anything like that to her. No-one had ever made a star map of her face.

She got up and went over to him. He pulled her onto his lap. "Why didn't I meet you at the start of my vacation?" he mused, wistfully.

"Fate, I guess."

He pulled a face.

"You'd prefer a more scientific reason, I suppose. You could call it...let's see...John Tracy's Theory Of Why Things Don't Happen The Way We'd Like Them To."

"Followed by Karen Meadows' Theory Of Why Everything Deserves a Smart-Assed Reply."

"Think we'd have survived a whole week together?" she grinned.

"I'd have been more than willing to give it a try."

She bent her head and kissed him. She savoured the bacon salt on his lips and the tang of orange juice on his tongue. He held her head gently and tangled his fingers in her hair. He moved his mouth slowly over hers, stoking the still smouldering embers of her desire. There was no rushing a kiss like this- this was slow and deep and meaningful. This was the kind of kiss that released dopamines in the brain and bonded two people together.

But on the other hand, this was the kind of kiss that left a woman breathless and unsure, that pulled up her anchor and cast her adrift on a stormy sea.

Karen knew she had fallen for this man.

She also knew she was powerless to prevent it.

They went back to bed. Wordlessly they removed each other's clothes, dropped them where they stood. There didn't seem to be a need to speak, to say anything that hadn't already been said. Everything else could wait. They stood before each other, naked and exposed. She let him look at her, examine her, commit her to memory. He ran his hands down her arms and held her fingers. He raised her hand to his lips and lightly bit the inside of her wrist. She fixed her eyes on the slender lines of his neck, the long tendon that ran from his collarbone to his ear. No doubt he could tell her what it was called.

She raised her eyes to his, lost herself in their dark blue depths.

He drew her into another lingering kiss, wrapped his arms around her. He grew hard against her lower abdomen. She moved to the bed, sat down and pulled him with her. Don't ever stop kissing me, she thought, helplessly. Don't _ever_.

She lay down and he moved with her. His tongue wrapped itself around hers in a warm, wet duel. His hand stroked her ribcage, cupped her breast, rubbed her nipple. Every nerve ending in her body responded as one to his gentle touch, all of them screaming for their turn to be caressed.

She stroked the back of his well-defined calf with her foot, her toes running up and down its silky length. He wasn't a hairy man, and what hair there was on his legs was fine and soft. The same with his forearms, where the hairs were blond from the sun. He had the sort of body you didn't want to stop touching. She ran her hands over his smooth back, felt his muscles move beneath her fingers.

"So..." he said, looking for all the world as though he were suppressing a very naughty grin, "are you...er, you know- are you okay to, um..._do it again_?" he waved his hand vaguely in the area of their lower regions.

"No pleasure without a bit of pain," she replied, guiding his hand between her legs.

"What are you, a masochist?"

"Where you're concerned? I think I must be." She kissed him tenderly, running her tongue smoothly over his lips, murmuring with satisfaction as his skilful fingers began arousing her to the point of no return.

She parted her legs for him and gripped his shoulders, biting her lip as he entered her.

He made love to her slowly, looking intently down into her face. It was almost disconcerting to have him watching her so closely as he moved inside her, but after a while she began to find the notion quite erotic. His eyes were hypnotic, almost unblinking. She couldn't hold them for long- besides, his lovemaking was stirring such pleasurable physical sensations in her lower regions that she thought she might lose all control if she looked at him as well.

Apart from her moans of pleasure, neither of them had as yet made any sound at all. This was no longer just sex. This was two human beings needing and wanting to be together in the limited amount of time they had left. This was intimacy with a purpose. This was like two condemned people eating their last meal.

John continued his steady pace, building up the pressure, feeling his stomach muscles contract and tighten. Still he watched her, enraptured by her look of intense concentration, wanting to make the pleasure last as long as he could.

No, he told himself, don't come yet. Don't come.

He pulled out of her abruptly. She cried out in protest, hands grabbing at him. "John, what?"

He arched his body over her, his hands pinning her forearms to the bed, his legs doing the same to her thighs. His erection hung wetly on her stomach. He kissed her passionately, pushing his tongue far into her mouth. She squirmed, unable to move. He nipped and sucked at her lips. The more she squirmed, the more he pinned her to the bed with surprising strength. He kissed her face all over, searing her skin with scorching breath.

He let go of her arms and moved down her body, kissing and nipping and licking. He spent a considerable amount of time on each breast, fondling them with his fingers, sucking her nipples, teasing them with his wet tongue, rolling them around in his mouth and biting at them until she groaned in agony, her hands and mouth buried in his hair.

He trailed his tongue down her torso, bit at her ribs, licked around her belly button, poked his tongue into it. He moved further south and nibbled the musky insides of her thighs, making her legs twitch and open automatically. He clamped his lips around her most sensitive little spot. He was an expert at exquisite torture. She bucked and moaned, ready to explode.

He got up quickly onto his knees. He pulled her left leg up over his shoulder and held the other one down across his thigh. He re-entered her and began thrusting, watching her all the while. She cried out with pleasure, clutching the sheets as he pushed into her, his fingers digging almost painfully into her thighs.

After a few moments in this position, he made her roll over again and penetrated her deeply from behind, but this time he put his hand in the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades, and pressed her down. Pinned to the bed, she could only brace herself as he continued his passionate onslaught with almost his full weight upon her. She gasped for breath, her face turned sideways into the mattress. He threw his head back, ignoring the burning pain in his thighs.

After a few more moments he stopped again, and her moans of protest became even louder. He pulled out very slowly, letting her feel every solid inch of him withdrawing. She made a strangling sound in her throat. Spots danced in front of his eyes with the amount of self-control he was exerting. He didn't know how much longer he could go on teasing both himself and her.

He knew she was nearing climax. As much as he was enjoying himself, he didn't think he was going to last much longer either. Shaking the hair out of his eyes, he stroked up and down the length of her quivering spine with his fingertips. Then he raised his hand and gave her a playful slap on the buttocks with the flat of his palm, then another a few moments later, grinning at her appreciative shouts and squeals.

God only knew what the neighbours were thinking.

Now he really went for it, giving it all he had, gripping her hips hard. His temples throbbed, his jaw clenched. His stomach seized and he groaned gutturally, his throat hoarse and tight. His hair clung to his forehead. Beads of sweat ran down into his eyes, making him blink furiously.

Karen felt him reach climax and that was enough to make her come too, sending her tumbling into freefall. Her entire body tensed like a coiled spring and then released all at once. Electricity shot all the way down to her toes and fingertips. She couldn't believe how many times he had made her come so explosively. She shuddered and jerked, her buttocks lifting up into the air. He pressed the flat of his palm hard against her and gave her another wave of pleasure right on top of all the other ones. He was still inside her, she was still trapped in his vice-like grip. He was making damned sure she experienced every last second of pleasure he could give her before this all ended.

The man was a sexual time bomb. How the hell could he ever have been celibate for as long as he said he had? Did he work all alone in the dark? Or was this incredible, no-holds-barred sex simply the result of all those months of built up tension?

She collapsed, exhausted. He let her go and watched her lying there flat out on her stomach, gasping and panting for breath, her legs still spread wide in front of him. He looked down at himself, red and rapidly shrinking. He blinked and breathed hard, filling his lungs with much needed air. He wondered where all that had come from. He vowed never again to go for so long without sex, especially if it was going to be like this.

She rolled over and pulled him into her arms.

"John Tracy," she declared, "you are unstoppable."

"Well, I've stopped now," he uttered into the sheets. "In fact, I'm thinking you might have to send me home with my **** in a splint."

"Aww," she teased, patting his back. "Poor baby."

He lifted himself on one elbow. "Was it good for you?" he asked. "I mean, really. Joking aside."

She stared at him. Surely he wasn't insecure about that stunning performance of his?

"Was it good? John, it was incredible! You're a dynamo. _And _you made sure I came,_ and_ more than once."

He smiled endearingly. "It would have been rude not to."

"You really are every woman's dream man."

"I don't know about that," he laughed.

"Oh, no, believe me. They ought to be queuing up around the block for your services." She tugged his forelock. "So what is the deal? Why _are_ you still single?"

"I told you. I spend a lot of time alone."

"Are you a loner?"

"Kind of, I guess. I do get antsy after long periods of solitude."

She stroked his lower lip, ran her fingers over his chin and sharp jawline. "You're a mysterious one, all right."

He kissed her fingertips. "You wouldn't be the first to say that. Hell, my own _brothers_ say that."

"You've got more than one brother then, I take it."

"Uh-huh. There's a whole bunch of us."

"I've got one sister. She's a lot older than me. We don't have a lot of contact, but we're not estranged or anything."

"I guess that makes you pretty much a loner yourself, then."

She smiled a little wistfully. "I guess it does."

"Loners of the world, unite," John smiled. "Except they wouldn't, of course."

She rubbed his nose with hers. "Silly."

John flopped back onto the bed, ran a hand over his stomach. It was her turn to prop herself up beside him. She rested her arm on his chest, tracing small circles around his pale brown nipple. "So. What should we do with ourselves today?" she asked.

####

John cleaned up the kitchen while Karen took another shower. He stacked the dirty plates next to the sink and wiped the table properly with a soapy dish towel. It felt good just to potter around in someone else's space. He looked quickly through the cupboards, feeling a bit sneaky but just wanting to see what sort of foods she ate. It was the usual stuff, of course. Packet spaghetti and tins of tomatoes, half used packets of sauce powders and bottles of ketchup with congealed bits around the lid. A bag of dried fruit at the back that looked well past its use-by date. He took it down to check. Sure enough, it was around six months too old. He couldn't mention it of course, because then she'd know he'd been rooting around. But he sure hoped she checked the user information on things before she put them in her mouth.

He closed the cupboards and carried on with the dish washing. TB5 had a dishwasher, but he never needed it for the small amount of plates, cups and cutlery that he utilised. Besides, he found it therapeutic to plunge his arms into soapy hot water and get things sparkling clean again.

Sun streamed through the open window. In some other apartment a radio was playing Classic Oldies from the Twentieth Century and he listened to Three Dog Night singing Shambala as he scrubbed the plates. This was the life, he thought. I could really get used to this.

Karen got out of the shower and wrapped a thick warm towel around her. She heard the sounds of dishes in the kitchen and padded quietly to the open doorway. She stood leaning against the jamb and watched John working with his back to her at the sink, totally unaware of her presence.

He was shirtless, just wearing his trousers. She admired the lean lines of his back, his pert buttocks moving inside the snug fitting fabric. He had the perfect A-frame, wider shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His shoulder blades were sharp and defined. The back of his neck was long and covered with velvety fine blond hairs. The little nub of bone at the top of his spine made her want to go over and kiss it.

And he was doing the washing up.

How was she ever going to keep hold of a man like this?

He must have caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, or smelled the scent of soap emanating from her freshly cleaned body. He turned and looked at her, smiling when he realised she must have been standing there for some time.

"Just thought I'd...you know." He indicated vaguely around the kitchen with one arm.

"Hey! Don't let me stop you, Dreamboy."

She opened the fridge, peered inside. "I was thinking, it would be nice to take a stroll around the park." she said, taking out a loaf of bread. "You know, have that picnic. Whaddya say?"

"I say let's go for it, otherwise you'll just end up dragging me back to the bedroom for more sex and before long the whole day will have gone by."

"Hmmm, that is a very likely scenario." She took out cheese and some ripe tomatoes and foraged around for anything else that might make a good picnic.

He finished the dishes, emptied the sink and went over to kiss the back of her neck. "I ought to take another shower too...although I kind of like the smell of you all over me."

She shivered. "Who exactly is going to be dragging who back to the bedroom, can I ask?"

He chuckled, lifted up her towel and gave her buttocks a soft squeeze and a pat. "No way, sweetheart, I don't think I've got anything left inside me. A nice shower and a walk in the park will do me just fine, thank you."

####

The day was beautiful and bright. The park was crowded with people enjoying the summer sunshine. Children shouted and played, pet dogs bounding along beside them, barking excitedly. Sunlight dappled on the rippling lake, ducks and geese bobbed up and down, quacking and honking.

Teenagers threw frisbees, lovers canoodled on the grass. John and Karen walked hand in hand, Karen holding a bag containing a blanket and cushions, John swinging the bag of food they'd packed. His fingers felt strong and warm laced through her own. She noticed other women glancing at him as they passed by, and felt proud that she was with him, if only for this one day.

They picked a spot on the grass near the water, spread their blanket and sat down. A breeze drifted off the lake and fluttered through their hair. Karen began tightening the black velvet ribbon that she always used to tie her hair up, but John reached out and pulled it loose. Tumbling auburn curls cascaded over her shoulders and immediately blew into her face.

"John," she chided, her face covered by her hair.

"What? I like it loose. It's beautiful."

"I'm going to be pulling it out of my mouth all day now."

He scooted closer. "Then we'll just have to keep your mouth busy doing something else."

He cupped the back of her head and moved the hair out of her face just enough to uncover her lips, then he kissed her gently. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sweet sensations, moving her mouth in tune with his, savouring his distinctive male taste, his John taste as she was starting to call it. His lips were soft and pliable, his kiss delicate yet firm, hungry yet undemanding. She murmured her approval, wishing she could stop time right at this moment and carry on kissing him forever.

Someone walking past gave a long low wolf whistle.

Karen blushed and giggled. "Think we're putting on quite a show," she whispered against his lips.

"Let them see what they're missing," John smiled naughtily.

They kissed some more. Then he leaned back and studied her thoughtfully. "You have freckles," he said. "Just there, on your nose."

"The sun brings them out," she grinned. "I used to hate them, but now I quite like them."

"They're like a mini-constellation," he agreed. "I'd better add them to my star map." he kissed her nose where the freckles were. "For the girl with stars on her face," he said.

"Oh, John!" she said, quite taken aback. "You say the nicest things." Her fingers reached instinctively for her nose where he'd kissed it. She watched him lovingly as he turned his attention to the bag of food, opening it up and laying the contents out on the blanket.

He took the lid off a small plastic tub and peered inside.

"I only had one apple and a few grapes, so I cut them all up together," she confessed.

He looked at her mock-sternly. "Five helpings of fruit a day, young lady. You can't just live on pizza and sex."

"Who says I can't?" she grinned.

"What's this?" he held up a tinfoil wrapped object.

"Half a bar of chocolate."

"Where's the other half?"

"I ate it. While I was making the sandwiches."

"So, this is _my_ half, then." He made a big show of clutching it to his chest.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "Do you itemise _everything_?"

"You think it's funny now," he told her, "wait 'til it starts getting annoying. Wait 'til I'm telling you not just that you need more toilet paper, but just how many squares are left on the roll."

"Thanks for the fair warning."

"I get my ass kicked on a regular basis, don't worry about that."

"What are your brothers like? Slobs?" she laughed.

"Compared to me? Yes. But no, they're okay. One of them's kinda lazy, you have to sound a klaxon to get him up in the mornings. But they pull their weight. Which is good, because they wouldn't want me on their cases all day."

"Are you the oldest?"

"No. I'm the third." he caught himself, but it was too late.

"So how many of you are there?"

He thought quickly. The Tracy name wasn't a secret, it was only International Rescue that no-one knew about. She already had his name, and something told him that she was going to look him up. There were biographies attached to his books and his name came up on NooGoogle. His father and brothers were mentioned in some of the more detailed biographies, though not all. She would find them though, if she was that interested. There was a computer in her small front room, he'd seen it. Once she'd got their names she could NooGoogle them all and see all the public information she wanted.

Besides, if he acted cagey, it would only make her suspicious.

"Five," he told her.

"Wow, big family."

"Yes. But great, you know. They're all good guys."

"And what do they do?"

He thought about the information that was out there in the public domain.

"One's a test pilot, one's an engineer, one's a marine expert and the youngest is into racing cars."

"Wow. That's pretty impressive. Test pilot."

"Yeah, he's the oldest. Been doing it for years. One of the best there is, and I'm not just saying that because we're related. He could fly a Tornado through a pin hole he's that good."

"Wow," she repeated.

"I wouldn't want him to know I said that, though. He'd only get big headed."

"Typical guy," she said. "Gotta follow a compliment with an insult in case it makes you look wussy."

"_Anyway_, let's eat!" John said, wholeheartedly wishing to change the subject. "What's in these gorgeous looking sandwiches?"

After they'd eaten the small picnic and drank apple juice straight from the carton, Karen lay on the blanket at right angles to John with her head on his stomach and his arm across her midriff. She was glad she'd worn her jeans so that she could raise her knees. She kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes through warm blades of grass.

John's head was propped on one of the cushions. Music drifted across the park, gentle and lilting. It sounded like a harp.

"What time do you have to leave tomorrow?" she asked, instantly regretting that she'd mentioned that particular topic yet again.

"I have to be at the airport at noon," he said, not sure how much information he wanted to keep divulging to her.

She fell silent. Maybe there had been something in his tone that suggested he didn't want to keep talking about it.

Or maybe _she_ didn't.

"I'll tell you something though. I won't leave it this long 'til a vacation again."

"You'd better not, mister."

There it was again. The unspoken assumption that they would see each other in the future.

Karen didn't think she could cope with the idea of _never _seeing him again. Even if she thought she would only see him once a year, that would be enough. But to never lay eyes on his handsome face or to weave her fingers through his soft blond hair again, that was unthinkable.

John thought of his own near future, alternating the months in TB5 with Alan and spending all that time on his own again. It was bad enough that he was going straight back to the satellite on Monday without even getting much time to spend with the guys. But now that he'd sampled the pleasures of the flesh- Hell, sampled? He'd eaten an entire three course meal- he didn't know how he was going to deal with being by himself again.

He looked up at the clouds scudding overhead. Plenty of guys had worse jobs, he realised. Oil rig workers, miners. He had it pretty good, really. He shouldn't be grumbling. He was actually in a privileged position. He had a big, loving family, they didn't want for anything. And they helped people. _Really_ helped people. In a lot of cases, their arrival at a danger zone meant the difference between life or death and saved countless people that would otherwise have perished or been critically injured.

When he thought about it that way, he was pretty indispensable.

He just wasn't ready to go home yet. Not after these last two days.

Funny. He didn't know what to do with himself at the start of his vacation. He'd actually spent one whole day doing absolutely nothing at all except padding around the luxurious suite in his pyjama bottoms drinking out of the mini bar and ordering room service. Then he'd slobbed on the huge cream leather sofa and watched cornball guy movies all afternoon. He'd spent a few evenings mooching around the bar and struck up a few conversations with other lone bar flies but nothing of note had happened to him, unless he'd missed something, which was quite likely given the fact he tended to lose attention and drift off unless his mind was really being stimulated.

Or his body.

Preferably both.

He hadn't hooked up with any women, although he recalled there was one in the hotel restaurant who looked at him a few times. She was nice looking enough, but he wasn't that interested.

He hadn't been thinking along those lines at all until he'd met Karen. He knew that even if she hadn't instigated that amazing kiss in the library, he would still have wanted to see her. He would have taken her for that coffee. Whether he would have progressed things at quite the speed that they'd actually happened, he wasn't sure.

But he was glad she had made the first move.

She was plucking blades of grass and stripping them with her purple painted fingernails. Her toes were tapping to some imaginary rhythm. He was content to just lie there with his arm around her watching the clouds, waving away the small summer flies.

Peaceful moments like these were hard to come by.

He should make the most of this one.

####

_I know...the moment of departure draws ever nearer... o_o _

_Chapter 5 will be up soon. If you have the time for a quick review, please let me know what you think! _

_With thanks, T xx_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi again everyone. Thanks for all the great reviews and feedback. I'm really thrilled that you're still with me, and that you like John and Karen as a couple. _

_All characters are based on **TV-Verse**, and are not owned by me. Karen is, however. Although she would argue that no-one owns her, as she is a free spirit. _

**_Rated M for Adult themes- sexual content and mild swearing. Please do not read further if you are too young!_**

_Onto chapter 5._

_####_

John must have fallen asleep. He was awoken by Karen gently leaning on his chest, brushing her lips against his jaw.

"What.." he mumbled.

"Wake up, sleepy," she smiled. "It's after four pm."

"Huh?" he raised his arm, looked at his wrist comm/watch. "When did that happen?"

"You were out for quite a while," she replied. "I was going to get us ice cream, turned to ask you what flavour you wanted and you were fast asleep. Snoring, even."

"Sorry about that."

"No worries. I think you needed it after your ah...tour de force performance this morning."

He raised one golden eyebrow. "Hmm, it takes two to Tango, I believe."

She leaned over him, kissed his lips. "You've definitely done some of those things before," she chuckled lasciviously, rubbing their noses together.

"Maybe I'm just a quick learner."

"No, sir. You've got more experience than you let on." She traced her finger inside his collar, tickled his Adam's apple. "Who taught you? Some older woman when you were seventeen?"

Oh God, she was getting horny again. There was a distinct possibility that he was going to find himself walking back to her place with an erection.

"You like your sexual fantasies, don't you?" he said, his tone laced with amusement.

"I certainly do, and I'm going to be having lots of them about you after you've gone."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be."

They kissed properly. Her hair fell around his face like an auburn curtain with the late afternoon sun shining through it. He inserted his tongue slowly into her mouth, ran it along the underside of her upper lip, curled it behind her teeth, stroked it along hers. She wrapped her arm around his head, murmuring softly.

She drew back at last, her eyes prickling with sudden tears. Embarrassed, she pushed herself upright and pretended she was pulling hair out of her face. She busied herself with packing up her bag, stuffing the cushions into it and trying not to sniff. She found a tissue and blew her nose.

John watched her quietly. He didn't think there was anything he could say or do. He lifted his hand and rubbed her back, hoping in some small measure that it would help to reassure her.

"Hayfever," she said, scrubbing at her eyes.

"I know, I get it too," he replied.

"Come on, John," she said, throwing the last few items into the bag. "It's late. We should get going."

Back at her apartment, they were both aware of the shift in mood. It was coming on for early evening. Karen put the blanket and cushions away, threw her shoulder bag onto the bed. She sighed. John had his hotel to go back to and whatever preparations he needed to make for tomorrow morning. He'd been wearing the same clothes for two days and probably needed to make phone calls. He hadn't even come into the bedroom and was hovering in the hallway instead.

"Guess you'll need to make a move soon, huh?" she said, standing in front of him and trying to appear nonchalant.

"I guess."

"So, um...do you want to...I mean, what are you planning on doing for dinner, later? You know, Saturday night..." She bit her lip, knowing she was fishing for some sort of invitation to join him, knowing any more contact with him would just be prolonging the agony- his departure was inevitable.

"Well, I...I hadn't really thought about..." he rubbed the back of his head boyishly.

The look of him standing there seemingly so unsure of himself was enough to tip the balance. She threw herself at him, catching him off guard as she had done in the library. She grabbed his head and clamped their mouths together and he stumbled backwards and knocked over a small table, scattering unopened bills everywhere. Her apartment was beginning to resemble a danger zone itself. He backed up against the wall and a small picture detached itself and fell onto his head, clattering to the floor, adding to the state of disarray.

She pulled at the buttons of his rumpled and slightly sweaty shirt, dragged it down his arms. He yanked her T-Shirt over her head and tore at the waistband of her jeans. She pulled him down onto the rug on top of all the scattered envelopes and flyers. He rolled her over onto her back and tugged hard at her jeans, hauling them off her without ceremony. Naked except for her bra and panties, she pulled him down on top of her and wrapped her legs tightly around his slender waist, digging her heels into his buttocks. They kissed hard and passionately. She grabbed at his flies, rubbing the palm of her hand over the springy, hardening bulge within. He groaned and lifted his hips, struggling to undo his trousers and kick them and his underwear down over his legs.

She arched up and forced him sideways, rolling him onto his back. He stared up at her in surprise as she clambered over him and straddled his legs, pulling his trousers off. Her hair was wild, whipping around her face like a small fire. She loomed over him like a conquering Amazon. She kissed him fiercely. She sat up and removed the last vestiges of her clothing.

She moved down his body, kissing wherever his muscles jerked and rippled, listening to his shallow breathing. She nestled her lips into dark blond curls. She tickled his thighs with her hair, wrapped it around him and rubbed up and down. She closed her lips around him. She felt his fingers winding tightly in her hair, holding her head down. She murmured softly, sending small vibrations through him, making him groan and thrust his hips upwards. She pulled up slightly before he choked her. Her neck muscles tightened. She repeated the process again and again. He undulated beneath her, panting and groaning.

She moved quickly to straddle him and lowered herself onto him, sliding all the way down. She began riding him, balanced on the balls of her feet. She leaned forward and took her weight on her hands. He fondled her swinging breasts, rubbing the nipples with his palms, feeling them tighten into solid little nubs. He looked down and watched her moving up and down, slapping against his groin. He moaned deliriously, felt his eyes glazing over. He pinched her nipples, tweaked them with his fingers. He lifted his head and sucked at one, but the sensations lower down were too much to handle and his head fell back to the floor with a thud.

She rode him hard, her thighs screaming in pain. She watched his neck flush red, his eyes squeeze shut. He held his breath in anticipation of the climax that was about to hit him.

He jerked upwards with a cry of pleasure, his mouth open, teeth bared. The tendons in his neck stood out, shiny with sweat. He clutched her thighs and spasmed inside her. She took a deep breath and then she came too, a long, low shudder that rippled through her like a small earthquake.

She sat on top of him, eyes wide and breathing hard, her breasts quivering as she drew in much needed air. Her entire body tingled, as though her skin was alive. She looked down at the smile of satisfaction curling the corners of his mouth. His deep blue eyes were glassy and half closed, gazing up at her as though he still couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Wow," she gasped.

He laughed tightly, blinking once or twice. "Did you get the number of that truck?" he agreed.

She climbed off him, lay down on her back beside him, feeling envelopes sticking to her skin.

"Can I just say something?" she said, stroking his hip bone. "I have _never_ had sex this good. Not with anyone. Ever."

He turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Really?"

"Really. I feel like a changed woman."

He propped himself on one elbow to look at her properly. He cupped her face with his hand, stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Two days ago I didn't even know you existed," he said softly.

"Two days ago I was in the library arguing with my stupid boss over the amount of coffee breaks we're allowed to take." She peeled a pizza delivery flyer off his shoulder.

"Two days ago I was thinking how _good_ it would be to get back to work." He pulled an incredulous face at that.

"Two days ago I was standing in SupaMart wondering whether to have macaroni cheese or mashed potato with my dinner."

"I'd have picked macaroni cheese."

"I didn't have either. I opened a bottle of wine and drank that, instead."

John shook his head in disbelief. "I can see you need someone to make sure you eat properly, woman," he chided her. "Burnt fries, no fruit, you drink like a fish..."

"Hey!" She punched him playfully. "I do _not_ drink like a fish! Anyway, fish don't drink. They don't need to, they live in water."

"Everything needs to drink," he smiled. "Some of them absorb it through their skin and some of them process it through their gills."

"Fish don't have skin, they have scales."

"They have skin under their scales. Don't you buy fresh fish either? Or does everything you eat come out of a can?"

"Don't you take the mickey out of me, buster," she warned.

He laughed in delight. "You remind me of my kid brother. He's impossible to tease, too. Not that it stops us."

"I feel sorry for him already."

"Ah, don't worry about him- he gives as good as he gets. Just like you."

"Sorry. I just don't like people assuming I can't look after myself."

"I wasn't." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I was teasing you."

"Well, then. Okay. You're forgiven. Again."

"That's more like it." He pushed himself into a sitting position, looked around at the mess. The scattered mail, the picture on the floor, left-over residues of soil from the upturned plant pot. He pictured the executive suite he was staying in, the pristine ivory coloured deep pile carpet, the immaculate décor, the squeaky clean leather couch, the fixtures and fittings polished so brightly you could see your face in them.

Maybe it was time to dirty it up a little bit.

"Come on, you," he said decisively, back in John Tracy, Space Monitor mode. "Pack yourself an overnight bag. You're coming with me."

####

The taxi cab picked them up at 7pm outside Karen's apartment block. John threw her bag onto the back seat and climbed in after her. He slammed the door shut and leaned forward to give the bored looking driver their destination. Then he settled back onto the hard plastic seat and wound his arm around her waist.

Karen stared at him, her mouth open. "The Walburn?"

He smiled enigmatically, watching the streets pass by.

"You're staying at _The Walburn_? That's like, two thousand dollars a night!"

"My room's a little less than that." Like, free, he thought to himself.

"All I can say is, those _Astronomy_ books must be paying pretty well." The word 'astronomy' was laced with innuendo.

"I have a very generous publisher," he grinned.

"Bullshit."

"You're very fond of that word, aren't you?"

"Only when I have cause to use it."

"Look, I'm not hiding anything from you about what I do. I write Astronomy books. I do research for other writers and I give talks to college campuses and stuff like that. I invest wisely. I like to live well. The Walburn wasn't my first choice, but I pulled in a favour from someone. Okay, Miss Marple?"

"I'll think about it."

He was aware of her body shifting ever so slightly away from him. Tough, he thought. But you'd better pass this test, or it'll be goodbye tomorrow for sure.

The tense moment didn't last long though. She relaxed again, nestled into his side. "Sorry for being prickly," she muttered.

"It's okay," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I know there's stuff about me that puzzles you. But don't worry. There's absolutely nothing sinister about it."

The taxi pulled up outside The Walburn. Karen stared out of the window in wonder at the tall, elegant structure, the tasteful way the exterior of the building was lit up in soft pastel colours. There was a covered entrance and a doorman. The pavement leading up to it was scrubbed and spotless.

John paid and tipped the driver even though the guy had barely said a word the whole way there. He opened the door and stepped out, extending his hand towards her. She scrambled out as gracefully as she could. She stood with John on the pavement as the taxi pulled away. She had changed her clothes but she still felt scruffy and out of place standing there with her battered holdall. Somehow though, John looked as if he belonged here. Even in his crumpled clothes he was elegant and poised, his profile sharp and handsome, his blond hair neat and shining. There was a surreptitious tilt to his head that she didn't think he was even aware of as he looked towards the imposing entrance.

"Come on, you'll be okay," he said quietly, sensing her unease. He took the bag from her, held onto her arm and led her towards the big glass doors.

The doorman tipped his head at John as they approached. "Good evening, Mr. Tracy," he said politely.

"Good evening, Arnold," John replied. "And how are you tonight?"

"Very well, thank you, sir."

"I'd like you to meet my friend, Karen. Karen, this is Arnold. Best doorman in town, and then some."

Arnold bowed slightly towards Karen. "A pleasure, miss."

"Nice to meet you, Arnold," Karen replied nervously.

John took her through the sumptuous lobby. A few very well dressed people milled about, some checking in. The young female receptionist glanced over, saw John, smiled and looked away.

The went to the bank of elevators. The doors of one opened and two large men stepped out, both dressed immaculately in dinner suits. When the car was empty, John and Karen went in. The car reeked of expensive aftershave and expelled wind.

"Ugh!" She declared. "Those men farted."

"Just goes to show that money can't buy good manners," John said in agreement, holding his nose.

He pressed the top button with his other hand.

"Top floor?" Karen said, her eyebrows lifting.

"I know. Long way to go with this smell up our noses."

The car began moving upwards.

"If anyone else gets in, they'll think it was us," Karen said, starting to giggle.

"Well, there ought to be a button here." John located and opened a hidden panel next to the floor buttons and peered at some secret controls.

"John! What are you _doing_?"

"Ah, here it is." he pushed one of the buttons and they heard a soft hissing sound. Moments later the air smelled sweetly of freshly washed linen, all other smells gone. "Air freshener. Only the staff know about it. They prefer the rest of us to suffer in silence." he grinned broadly, eyes shining.

"How did _you_ discover it?" she asked, grinning back, sharing in his secret.

He tapped the side of his nose. He was about to say something else when the car stopped at the seventh floor and a large lady got in, followed by a very small, thin man with wispy hair and spectacles.

"Uh, we're going up," John said apologetically.

The woman stared haughtily at him down the considerable length of her pudgy nose. "Oh." She said rudely. Without another word she turned and bodily shoved the small man out of the elevator and turned on her fat heel. As the doors closed again they could hear her beginning to berate her poor little companion.

"The poor guy!" said John. "Married to _that_."

"Maybe they're not married, maybe they're having a wild affair and he likes being treated like that. Maybe they get into the wrong cars on purpose."

John laughed out loud. "I never considered that. So now they'll be going back to their room to make mad, passionate love and humiliate each other a bit more."

"She's probably a high-class hooker."

"Plenty of them around. Arnold probably thought you were one."

"Hey! Less of the high-class." She winked at him.

"So, how much do you charge?" he smiled back, tilting his lips devilishly.

"More than you can afford, _Mr. Tracy_."

He pulled her into a passionate kiss. It took a moment for them to notice that the car had arrived at their floor and someone was waiting patiently for them to get out.

"Oh, uh...sorry," John mumbled, separating himself from Karen's clutches, pulling her out of the car and into the corridor. The sharp-suited, good looking man who had been waiting tipped his head graciously, smiled an unspoken message.

"Not at all, young man, miss. Enjoy your evening," he said in a cultured accent before disappearing into the elevator and closing the doors.

"_Enjoy_ your _evening_," Karen giggled.

"Know who that was?" John led her down the tastefully decorated corridor. "That was Felix Fanshaw, of Fanshaw's Fashion For Men."

"No way!" Karen at last looked impressed. "He looked so normal. Well, for a super rich guy."

"Super rich people don't all go around spitting on the poor, Karen."

"Oh, I know that. I guess I'm maybe just a little intimidated by all this. I mean, one minute we're in my shabby little place, the next thing...this. The goddamned Walburn. I've lived in this city for years and I've never been inside this place. Never wanted to."

"Well, look," said John, stopping her outside the door to his suite. "We're here now, and this is my last night. So just enjoy it with me, okay? Forget everyone else and how much money they've got. Just spend time with _me_. That's all I want."

She looked down at her shoes. There was nothing wrong with them, she had bought them in a reputable shoe store with her own hard-earned money and she liked them. She raised her eyes to John's face, saw the way he was looking at her.

"Of course, John. Forgive me, I want to be with you too. And I guess, if I'm honest, deep down I could get used to luxury like this."

He pushed the door to the suite open. Karen's senses were immediately assailed by all the new information her brain was having to take in. The room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling glass patio doors and windows. She removed her shoes to feel the soft carpet sink beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes in its luxuriant depths. If feet could have orgasms, hers were having one now.

"What do you think?" John asked, studying her every move.

"Amazing," she uttered. She cast her eyes around the room, staring at the huge pieces of furniture all in cream coloured leather.

"This is just the main room," he said. "There's a bedroom and bathroom too."

Obviously, she thought. "No kitchen?" she said aloud.

"No. Room service here is excellent, and they deliver it twenty four seven three sixty five. At least, for _this_ floor." Again, he tipped her that look, the one that said he wasn't telling her everything. She knew she was going to have to wait for him to decide when he was ready to disclose further information to her, and while she found his mysterious ways kind of endearing right now, she wondered how she'd deal with it the longer it went on. She didn't like being kept in the dark. Not when she was sharing such amazing physical intimacy with him. She didn't want to think he'd been using her just for that.

But then, if that's all he'd wanted, he could have picked up a rich girl or a hooker easily enough.

Oh, he was an enigma, all right. Maybe what he said was true. He _liked _her.

Funny how she'd felt so comfortable with him in her place, but here it felt different, like she was having to get used to a whole new version of John Tracy. She'd had no idea this was how he lived, but now that he was here, she saw how easily he moved in such opulent surroundings.

"Want a drink?" He asked, grinning. "Come on, check this mini bar."

She followed him across the room to an alcove where he pressed a button on the wall. A panel slid back and a stack of shelves with a huge array of different bottles emerged, accompanied by a medium sized refrigerator and all the usual bar paraphernalia.

"That's a mini bar?" she exclaimed. "That's bigger than the bar in my local pub!"

He moved to stand behind it. "And what will you have, lovely lady?"

"I'll have _you_, my good man," she smirked.

"All in good time, sweetheart. Right now I'm gonna fix us something good. John Tracy's...ah...ah, quick, think of a name." he snapped his fingers in rapid succession.

"Purple Moonlight."

"Purple Moonlight? What the...? So now I have to make something purple?"

"I'll make something purple," she winked seductively, lowering her eyes to his groin area.

He pointedly ignored her. He studied the array of bottles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Bols. What _is_ that, anyway?"

"Stop the press," Karen said. "There's something John Tracy doesn't know."

"What John Tracy doesn't know, he soon finds out," John retorted, studying the label on the bottle. "'Bols Blue- distilled from a blend of herbs and sweet red oranges.' So why the hell is it blue."

"Just put it in. It'll add colour."

He poured a generous measure of Bols Blue into a small pitcher. "Vodka always goes well in these things," he mused, taking down a bottle of Grey Goose.

"We need something red."

"Our eyes'll be red after this," he said, pouring in a good helping of vodka.

"Here, coconut rum. Give it a tropical hint. You know, moonlight."

John smiled, thought of Tracy Island. "You got it. Coconut rum coming right up."

"So, now that it's pure alcohol, we need something fruity," she said. "And preferably red."

"Blackberry juice," he grinned, triumphantly holding up a bottle from the fridge.

"Pour it in, Maestro."

The blackberry juice mixed with the Bols produced a deep reddish-blue colour. The sweet smell of blackberries mixed with oranges and coconuts assailed their nostrils.

"Doesn't smell half bad, for an experiment," Karen said, her mouth watering.

"The coup de grace, I think," John muttered, going back to the fridge. He returned with a bowl of limes and a knife.

"This is going to be good," she said, watching him slice the limes, remove the pips and squeeze them into the pitcher.

"Have the number of the nearest hospital to hand, just in case," he replied, adding a tray of ice cubes to the mix and stirring thoroughly.

"If you made it, it'll be delicious," she said, watching him select two tall drink glasses and set them on the counter.

"My word. Was that a compliment?" he poured the drink out, filling the glasses to the top, adding three or four ice cubes to each.

"It was. I thought it was about time."

He handed her a glass, raised his in a toast. "To life and all its many mysteries," he said grandly.

"I'll drink to that." She clinked the rim of her glass against his.

They lifted their glasses and swallowed.

"Mmm. Disgusting." said John.

"What do you mean? It's delicious!"

"It's so sweet."

"I know. That's why I like it." She drank some more. "John Tracy's Purple Moonlight. Have it trademarked."

"It's kind of less a cocktail, and more blackberry juice with vodka."

"Put a cherry and an umbrella in it then."

"And have people think I'm gay?" he smiled. "Oh wait...they already do."

"Gay is good," she grinned, sucking on an ice cube. "I'd pay to watch you make out with a man."

"Next time I need to borrow ten bucks I'll remember that." He topped up her already half empty glass.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

She flashed her eyes at him. "I'll remember _that_."

"I'm sure you will." He flashed his eyes back at her.

"So," she smiled wickedly over her glass. "Want to give me the grand tour? Or do you just want to get right down to business?"

He regarded her expression. She had pink cheeks and a lascivious twinkle in her eye, no doubt fuelled by a good kick of alcohol. She chewed her blackberry stained lower lip, which he found quite arousing. His groin stirred. He wondered how his groin could just keep on going like this.

"Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "Let's go take a bath."

####

The bathroom was bigger than her front room and kitchen put together- the bath itself was enormous. It was actually a Wet Room, with the floor sloping gently to a concealed drainage area.

This meant they could splash around as much as they liked, John had told her with a straight face.

Karen closed her eyes blissfully as the hot water closed around her submerging body. She sat between John's legs and leaned back against his chest, drawing steamy scented air into her lungs. He had lit candles all around the shelves and poured drops of essential oil into the water. Soft piped music drifted around the room, quiet enough not to bother them, just enough to set the mood. He had moved on from the Purple Moonlight and popped a half bottle of champagne which they were now in the process of drinking.

John stroked his fingers over her belly. He drifted one hand over her breast. She watched his wet fingers drip over her nipple, stroking lightly around the aureola. She sighed quietly.

"See those indentations in the sides of the bath there?" he murmured into her ear. "Know what they are?"

"Oh yes, I was going to ask you about those. What are they?"

"They're foot holds." He nuzzled his lips against her shoulder. "So that you don't slip. When you're...you know."

She took a moment to process his words. "Oh my," she said, her cheeks flushing even more. "And have you ever..._you know_? In here?"

He licked her skin, sucked it gently. "Not yet. But I sure can't wait to try."

"Mmmm." She let her head fall back onto his shoulder as he trailed wet kisses over her neck and throat. His jaw was just beginning to feel slightly scratchy. He licked and nibbled her earlobe. His right hand caressed her breast, his left hand slipped down her stomach and eased between her thighs.

She gasped out loud and closed her eyes, breathing gently, allowing the sweet sensations to build and build.

He moved his hand away from her breast, picked up his champagne glass. She turned her head and watched him sip. He saw that she wanted some. He took a mouthful and tilted her chin towards him. He put his lips against hers and let the champagne trickle from his mouth into her mouth. She put her tongue out and tasted the bubbles on his. He pressed their tongues together, slipping and sliding. She joined him in the most erotic open-mouthed kiss she'd ever known. He lifted the champagne glass and dribbled a small amount onto their duelling tongues, resulting in a fizzy kiss that took her breath away.

He continued to stroke between her legs with his other hand. She lifted her feet and placed her heels into the two nearest footholds. "Hey, they work," she whispered. He grinned wickedly.

His fingers worked a little faster, but stayed gentle. At times they barely touched her flesh at all. At other times he dragged the length of his finger deep between her velvet folds, making her groan in her throat.

He poured champagne over her breasts. She gasped at the tiny bubbles bursting on her nipples. He twisted around her and licked at the nearest breast, lapping the champagne off. His tongue flickered over her nipple, driving her crazy with desire. He sucked at her skin, rolling the nipple inside his mouth, taking it between his teeth and biting gently. All the while his hand played between her legs, driving her wild with desire. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, arching her hips into the air, sending a wave of water over the rim of the bath.

She came suddenly, kicking her feet into the footholds, her hips lifting right out of the water which cascaded everywhere. She cried out loudly, great strangling noises emanating from the depths of her throat. He rubbed harder and harder, driving her insane.

At last he stopped, knowing when it would start to become painful rather than pleasurable. She sank back into the water, groaning incoherently. He held her against him, murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear.

She fell silent, breathing hard, her glistening breasts heaving. He kissed the side of her face, inhaling the oil on her skin. He held her as gently as he'd hold a piece of fine china.

The water calmed itself around them, trickled down the drain at the far end of the room.

She pulled his arms around her and let her eyes close.

He buried his lips in her hair and let his eyes close too.

####


	6. Chapter 6

_I had this chapter ready to upload maybe tomorrow or the day after. Then I thought well, why wait? _

_So here we go again...pushing back the boundaries of the ffic ratings system. I can't control John now. He's an animal! What noise does a tiger make? **Rooowwwrrr!**_

_Apologies to Alaina, if you're reading this at work, you may need some more cool paper towels._

_Some new people in the review section, **hi new guys**, glad you're enjoying the devilish antics of 'the quiet Tracy'. (Smirks. Quiet?)_

_Oh yes...disclaimers. Tracys and other Thunderbirds characters-not mine. (**Based on TV-Verse.**)_

_Karen and all OC's- mine, yours, and the universe's._

_**Rated M for Adult Content. Very sexy scenes and swear words, and generally gettin' deep down and dirrrty. Don't censor me, pleease, not now!**_

_Enjoy chapter 6, and thanks again for reading. You are all really encouraging me like you wouldn't believe. }}}**hug**{{{_

_####_

There was hardly any water left in the bath at all now- John and Karen's energetic lovemaking had managed to empty most of it out onto the floor where it continued to pour down towards the concealed drain. Thank God for Wet Rooms, Karen thought to herself as John bent over her for yet another passionate session. Whoever designed this place knew _exactly_ what they were doing.

John had become almost animalistic in his need for her. He bent her forward and drove into her from behind, his hands roving all over her hips, buttocks and thighs, his face pressed into her back, sucking and biting at her skin. She held firmly to the shiny, gold-plated taps, hoping the force of their passion wouldn't break them off as he rocked her back and forth, water sloshing around their legs.

He pulled out of her, leaned forward and reached for the detachable shower head, turning the water on. He checked the temperature until it was warm enough. He moved behind her and entered her again, making her gasp. He played jets of water all over her back, tickling her shoulders and ribs. He sprayed water over her buttocks and himself, directed it everywhere that was sensitive for her. She moaned and wriggled her backside at the agonizing sensations. He held it the shower head underneath her and aimed it at her most tender spot.

She cried out softly as the warm water jets stimulated her tender flesh. He kept it there, playing it back and forth as he made love to her. She lifted her hips, he drove in deeper. She reached for the taps and increased the pressure, which made him laugh. He held the shower head closer to her tender spot and grinned when she howled with obvious delight.

"Oh, God...yes, John! Yes!"

"Mmm. You _are_ a dirty little girl," he murmured, riding her harder.

"_I'm_ dirty?" She giggled huskily, "it was _your _idea."

He leaned forward over her and bit her shoulder. "You like it though, huh?"

"Oh, God...yes. God...it's _good_."

He continued directing the water jets at her until she shuddered to a climax, pushing her hips back against him, bucking like a pony at the searing bolts of electricity shooting around her body. He thrust into her again and again until he came too, plunging deep into her one last time, holding her hips steady. Then he pulled out of her and fell back into the water, pulling her with him. The shower head fell over the side of the bath and sprayed upwards, dousing three or four candles before Karen grabbed hold of it and switched it off.

"Oh my God, that was good," she breathed, falling into his embrace. He wound his arms around her, laughing softly.

"I need to make the most of it now," he chuckled. "seeing as I'm probably gonna be celibate for months again after I get back."

"Months?" she said, her heart sinking slightly. That meant that even if they did see each other again, it wouldn't be for months.

"If previous experience is anything to go by." He picked up the champagne bottle and emptied the last drops into their glasses.

"How can you go without it for so long? I mean, what with you being so..._rampant_."

"Oh, I just got used to it, I guess. You forget to think about it after a while." He drained his champagne in one go, blinked and shook his head at the bubbles.

"You got that right," she smiled wistfully. "I went for months without it, too. Just wasn't interested after Alex left."

"Alex? He the ex?"

"Yeah." She reached for her champagne and swallowed fiercely. "The dirtbag that ran off with my friend."

John nuzzled her neck. "Ah, but if he hadn't left you, then you wouldn't have met me, and you told me you'd never had it so good."

"Hmm, well, I wasn't trying to boost your ego, I was just stating a fact."

He parted his lips and trailed the tip of his tongue from her from shoulder to her ear. She shivered, uttered a small sigh of approval.

"Alex didn't really go for the little things like this," she murmured, pressing herself closer. "He just...you know...tended to go straight at it."

"But then he missed all the fun stuff," John commented, nibbling her earlobe.

"Yes. And so did I."

He continued toying with her ear, blowing warm breaths into it, running his tongue around the outer shell. She squirmed blissfully.

"So, who was your last girlfriend, John?" she asked, finishing her drink and setting the glass back down.

"Wow, that's a good one," he smiled against her skin. "It's hard to remember back that far. I'd have to say my last proper girlfriend was some years ago."

"So all the others have been...one-night stands?"

"I don't screw around."

"So where'd you get all your experience?"

"I guess I just pick things up as I go along."

"You keep heading me off when I ask those questions. I won't be offended you know. I mean, if you said you had lots of flings."

"Okay, then. I've had a couple of flings. And yes, they were pretty hot. But that still doesn't mean I screw around. And anyway, even if I did, what's it to you?"

She had to look at him then, to make sure he was teasing her. The tilt of his lips told her that he was.

She nudged him in the ribs. He leaned towards her and kissed her, his fingers held gently under her chin. She thought of his supple lips caressing some other woman's skin, kissing some other woman's mouth. Some other woman that might, even now, be wondering where he was and what had happened to him.

She wondered how long it would be before she was that woman.

He broke the kiss, brushed his lips lightly over her cheek. She felt his eyelashes against hers, his hair on her forehead. She clung to his shoulders, inhaling the oil on his skin.

They washed in the water that was left and rinsed off with the shower head. She shampooed his hair, massaging it into his scalp while he sat obediently in front of her. Then she rinsed it off and he did the same with her hair, which took considerably longer because he insisted on being thorough, working conditioner from roots to tip, humming as he dragged his fingers through her shiny curls while she sat in happy silence, murmuring occasionally.

Finally, when they were thoroughly clean, they climbed out of the bath and grabbed thick, warm fluffy towels from the heated towel rail.

"Now this I could get used to," Karen sighed, burying her face in the soft fabric.

"We'll have to see if we can smuggle one out," he grinned, rubbing his towel over his chest and torso.

"Smuggle me out this bath, too. Although I wouldn't even get it through my door!"

"Hey, if I could take this whole _suite_ home with me, I would."

"Not to mention that mini bar. That'd look _great_ in my front room."

"Maybe if we start now, we could make several trips," he joked. "Or I could pass things out the window on a long rope."

"What about that room service? You said it was twenty four seven. What's that like?" She towelled her hair, smelling the almond conditioner he'd used.

"Fantastic. And I'm glad you mentioned it, because I'm getting seriously hungry." He rubbed at his face. "_And_ I need a shave."

"Well, you get a shave. I'm going to get dressed." She patted his behind and went out of the bathroom, laughing.

####

They lay on the huge king sized bed perusing the extensive room service menu. Karen was wearing a soft bottle green cashmere sweater that was long enough to be a dress as well. Her legs were bare and she lay on her stomach kicking her feet together in the air. John was lying with his head on the pillows. He had changed into a plain turtleneck the colour of vanilla ice cream that was soft to the touch and looked expensive. He wore light brown chino-type pants that fitted him perfectly. She wondered if he had his clothes tailor made.

"Escargots in garlic butter." she read. "No thanks. Caviare, ugh."

"You know what you are?" John smiled, poking her with his foot. "You're an inverted snob."

"Get lost!" she whacked him with her menu.

"_Eew, no thanks, this is what rich people eat_," he said in an exaggerated imitation of a whiny female.

She hit him with the menu again. "Stop it. Escargots are snails. Who in their right mind would want to eat those, rich _or_ poor? And caviare is just salty fish eggs. You wouldn't get them at a truck stop diner, and you know why, because it's not real food, it's just high priced over-indulgence. Not only that, sturgeons are now an endangered species. I'm not _Barbie_. I do know what I'm _talking_ about." she whacked him twice more for emphasis.

He stared at her with a look in his eye that she didn't quite know how to take. Then he launched himself at her, rolling her over onto her back and tickling her into a shrieking frenzy. "What am I gonna do with you, huh? What am I gonna do with you?"

"Stop it, John! Stop it, I'm ticklish!"

He stopped at last, kneeling over her, breathing hard. He gazed down at her bright red, shining face. Her eyes were wet with tears of laughter. She was curled into a defensive ball, grabbing at his hands. "Pig!"

"Inverted snob. Although...I have to say..." he leaned forward on top of her, resting himself on his elbows and tangling his fingers in her splayed hair, "...a very _sexy_ one."

He kissed her, putting a stop to all of her protests. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, loving the clean smell of him, the smoothness of his freshly shaved skin. She slid her hands over the soft fabric of his shirt, felt his muscles move underneath.

"So, what do you recommend?" she asked, when he reluctantly broke the kiss.

"I'm going to have plain old steak. But only because they do the finest goddamned steak here that I've ever tasted. And I'm going to have it with a baked potato and corn on the cob, and a big tossed salad."

"I hate people who know what they want," she grinned, studying his lips, wanting them pressed against hers once again.

"Only because I had it on Thursday night, and I think I had it on Tuesday or Wednesday night, too. I'm not particularly adventurous where food's concerned. I like to stick to tried and tested."

"Well, I quite fancy grilled salmon steak and a nice salad too."

"My dear, you can have whatever you want. You can order the whole damn menu and they'll bring it."

"And more champagne?" she giggled.

"But of course more champagne. And melon balls with ice cream."

"And fresh strawberries and cherries."

"Whatever your little heart desires."

He rolled off her and pressed a button on the side table. A screen emerged and he keyed in a sequence of numbers. "You don't even have to talk to anyone, it just goes down to the kitchens and then in about fifteen minutes your food's waiting for you outside."

"I know how hotels work," she said, screwing her face up. She reached for one of his feet and started stroking it while he tapped in their food requests. His foot twitched. She bent her head and licked his second toe. His whole leg jerked.

"Ticklish?" she smiled.

"Don't you dare."

She reached for his foot again. "Don't be a spoilsport." She bent and took his second toe into her mouth. He watched her suck gently, feeling tremors of excitement going all the way up his leg. She licked the underside of all his small toes, nibbling at their soft pads, making him squirm. He closed his eyes, feeling her warm, wet tongue glide across the ball of his foot.

The screen on the table pinged, making him jump. A prompt was asking if he'd finished ordering. He pressed 'send', then replaced the screen back in its hiding place and lay back on the pillows, motioning to her with his arms out.

She crawled up his body and nestled into his embrace.

"I want to kiss you, but you've been sucking on my feet," he said.

"Your feet are clean," she laughed. "And they taste lovely." She pressed her lips to his.

They kissed gently. She wove her fingers through his blond forelock, teasing it into a curl. He worked the cashmere sweater dress up her thighs until his hands were on her exposed buttocks. She was wearing a tiny pair of briefs underneath. He hooked his thumbs into them, sliding them down.

"Don't know why you bothered putting these on."

"For the sake of decency. Although I'm starting to wonder why I bothered, too."

He caressed her smooth buttocks, moving his hands in slow circles. She sighed softly. No doubt he had once caressed another woman's buttocks just like this while she lay atop him in raptures.

She wished she wouldn't keep wondering about him like this. He didn't seem to be showing the same inordinate amount of interest in _her _personal life.

Did that mean he was going to forget about her as soon as she was gone?

God, Karen, snap out of it, she told herself. He said he wanted you here. Why can't you just take the man at his word? What good will it possibly do to keep questioning him like this?

She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his aftershave. He smelled beautiful. Slightly woody, slightly spicy. She nuzzled behind his ear, stroked her lips against his hair. He pulled her dress up higher, exposing her waist and hips. He stroked the small of her back.

She rubbed her bare legs against his clothed ones. He reached for her thigh, slid his fingers down its slender length. He stroked up the back of it and over her buttocks again. He continued to circle his hand there, bringing her gently to arousal.

"What time is the food coming?" her voice was muffled in his neck.

"Probably a split second before I do."

She snorted into the pillow. "Very funny."

"They're quick here. That's why we'd better wait."

"Mm, I'm starving. I'll need the energy."

He sank further into the pillows, studying her face. She watched his eyes move over her features.

"Still making that star map?" she asked.

"Mm hmm. Just fixing all those co-ordinates." He put his thumb on her lower lip and measured the short distance to her eyebrow with his index finger. He pulled a studious face, frowning as though deep in thought.

"What are you doing, a Vulcan mind-meld?" she laughed.

"Good idea. How about I put some new information into your brain. Eat fruit. Don't drink like a fish. Worship John Tracy."

"Hey, let's be realistic!" she giggled.

"Okay. Cut out the first two."

Just then the door chimed.

"That'll be our food," he declared, dumping her to one side and leaping off the bed. She watched him run out the door, shaking her head. She looked around the room while he was gone. There was a maroon coloured jacket hanging neat and pressed on the back of a chair. There was a dark blue tie draped over the arm. There were bits and pieces on the table nearby- male grooming products. An expensive brand of anti-perspirant. There was a small suitcase propped up next to the table. Tomorrow morning he would pack that bag and be out of here.

And she would be gone even before then.

He called to her, lifting her out of her descending gloom just in the nick of time.

"Come and see this!"

She got off the bed, adjusted her underwear, smoothed down her dress. She crossed the plush carpet and went into the main living room. Her was standing next to a huge buffet cart on wheels, lifting the silver covers off numerous platters. The food smelled gorgeous.

"I ordered slightly more than we needed," he admitted. "Just for the purposes of showing off. And, obviously so that we had a bit of choice."

She gazed at all the different dishes. She picked up a king prawn sauteed in lemon butter, bit it in half. "Oh my God, this is delicious." She then went for a tender medallion of beef. "Mm. So soft!"

"They sure know what they're doing in these kitchens," John agreed. "Mind you, no-one cooks as good as my Grandma. Her apple pies are the stuff of legend."

She chewed on a morsel of blackened chicken. "Home cooking's always the best."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Does that include your speciality, chargrilled French fries?"

"Funny guy. That was an accident, and that was _your _fault for distracting me in the first place."

He laughed. "I know. I'm teasing. Anyway, we ended up having the best pizza I ever tasted."

She smiled, pulling another piece of chicken in half, looking at the platters to see what she could eat next. "We should sit down, I guess, stop hovering."

They transferred the platters to the huge dining table. Under the top shelf of the cart was a chilled section holding all their desserts for later. There were also two bottles of champagne on ice. Karen was suitably impressed. John had thought of everything so far.

He popped the cork from one of the bottles and poured two glasses just as it started overflowing. The champagne fizzed and sparkled like diamonds. He handed her a glass and raised his towards her. "To...oh, I don't know. Beauty and diversity." He waved his glass in a theatrical shrug.

"Sounds good. And how about, to strength and honour."

"Nice. Chin chin." he clinked his glass against hers and took a long swallow. "Uhh," he winced as bubbles shot up his nose. "I keep forgetting you're meant to sip it."

"Maybe you should have just gotten yourself a good ol' beer," she said in a hick drawl.

"That's not going to impress the ladies, is it?"

"This lady doesn't need impressing."

He sat down, pulled himself up to the table. "I beg to differ. I'm pulling out all the stops here."

"And doing a very good job of it, too. I'm seriously impressed. Even though I don't need to be."

She watched him eat, become engrossed in his food. For such an elegant man, he piled an awful lot of food onto each forkful, as though he needed to eat in a hurry. She ate her own food at her normal pace, and wasn't surprised when he finished his steak way before she finished her salmon. He leaned back, drank more champagne. He started helping himself to morsels from other platters.

"You're hungry," she observed.

"Yeah, more than I thought. Soon it'll be back to my usual chow. Whatever I feel like rustling up. Which, if I'm busy, is usually something quick and convenient."

"Microwave meals for one?"

He looked up, grinned. "Meals for one, yeah. Doesn't that even_ sound _lonely."

"I eat them all the time," she shrugged, her feathers ruffled. "They don't make _me_ feel lonely."

He stopped talking, put his glass down. Her mood was changing again and he wasn't so stupid that he couldn't tell.

She was studying her plate, starting to poke at vegetables with her fork.

He got up, took the champagne bottle round to her side of the table and topped up her glass. He stood wordlessly beside her for a few moments, then he put his hand on her head and drew her towards him. She rested her head against his side, let him stroke her hair in silence.

"You'll be fine," he said gently at last. "I won't desert you."

How did he know that's precisely what she had been thinking? That he'd pack his bags and disappear and leave her with a handful of useless promises and another broken heart? And after only two days of knowing him, that was the ridiculous thing about it. She'd let herself fall hard and fast for a complete stranger. She'd invited him into her bed, and come back with him to his hotel, and she still had no idea who he really was!

"John, I'm so sorry, I'm being stupid. I'm all right, really. I'm fine."

He tilted her face up. "I know you are, Karen," he told her. "But I also want you to know that you _haven't_ heard the last of me. I'm not going to cut and run from this. I've had the best two days I've had in a very long time, and I'm not about to forget it. All I had was the thought of going home after a week of restless wandering around, and you changed all that in one instant. I know you must think I do this all the time..." he put his finger on her mouth to stop another protest, "...but I _don't_. I really don't. And if you are going to be part of my life, which I'd like you to be, then you have to trust me. You _have_ to trust me, because there's no other option. If you don't trust what I say, then we can't go any further. It's all I ask. Just for you to trust me."

She stared up at him while he made this speech. He was saying he wanted to keep seeing her! He was almost promising it. And all she had to do was trust him.

_All _she had to do.

But trust was no little thing. Trust was a big deal. She'd trusted Alex once, and look where that got her. All the times he'd said he was going out with his friends, he was sneaking round to _her_ friend's, and one of his sneaky friends was even giving him an alibi.

"Please, Karen," John said.

She blinked, nodded her head. "All right, John. I trust you. I do."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Scout's Honour and everything."

"I'm not a bad guy. I can assure you of that. But you need to believe me, because everything I've told you so far has been the truth."

_So far_. Those were the crucial words.

"All right. I'm sorry. It's not that I ever doubted you, it's just..."

"I know. You didn't know me from Joe, but now you do. I'm John Tracy. That is my real name. I'm not a crook, or a swindler, or an escaped convict. I don't want anything from you, except _you._"

She felt tears prickling then. She picked up her napkin and rubbed at her eyes. Too late, she remembered she'd put mascara on. She got up from the table and muttered an excuse before hurrying off to the bathroom.

When she'd gone, John let out an enormous, drawn out sigh and rubbed his face with both hands. Jesus, that was a close call. He couldn't go away tomorrow and leave her with any lingering doubts. He didn't want her being suspicious of him, or worse...hating him and becoming hell bent on revenge. He knew that was a worst case scenario, but it had happened to Scott once- luckily for them it was way before the days of International Rescue. The woman had been horribly persistent and it had taken months for Scott to completely shake her off.

Karen wasn't like that, though. Was she? He hated to admit it, but he didn't know her either. He realised he was going to have to trust her, too.

When she finally came back from the bathroom with her eye makeup fixed, John stood up and went over to the cart for a selection of desserts.

"Would chocolate cake cheer you up?" he asked hopefully.

"It might," she said with a small smile.

"With double chocolate ice cream?"

"Possibly."

"Well, sit down and I'll bring it right over."

####

Later on they were still sampling from the dessert cart, but they had taken the dishes into the bedroom. Their clothes lay scattered all over the floor. Karen lay back against the pillows while John kneeled over her, dripping ice cream onto her breasts then bending and licking it off.

She sighed lustily as his tongue made another slow, agonizing circuit of her right nipple.

She wound her fingers through his hair, needing to feel its silkiness one last time before he left.

He sucked at her breast, tasting the sticky sweetness. He sat up and trickled more ice cream over her nipple, making her jump at the sudden cold tingle. When followed by the heat of his mouth, it was all she could do not to leap ten feet in the air. When had her breasts ever received this much attention? Probably only whenever she checked herself for lumps in the shower.

The patheticness of this thought made her giggle suddenly. He looked up curiously and she told him what she'd been thinking. He smiled too, but not unkindly.

"What a crying shame. Such beautiful breasts, too," he said.

"I do feel I owe them more," she agreed.

"They're so perfect in every way, they should have a National Day to themselves," he went on, sighing in pretend awe.

"They certainly like _you_," she nodded.

"Mm. And they go so well with mango ice cream."

She lay back as he continued licking at her nipples. He was like a big, hungry cat with his stroking tongue and silky hair and those eyes that at certain angles looked almost feline. His forelock hung down and tickled her throat. She let out a soft purr herself.

After her breasts, he trickled ice cream over her stomach. She shivered, feeling all her abdominal muscles squeeze together. He licked thoroughly all the way down to her navel and dripped ice cream into it. He probed the tip of his tongue into the little hole and scooped the melting liquid out.

She knew where he was heading, and pushed at his head, wanting nothing but to feel him there.

She arched as the cold ice cream touched her inner thigh, jerking her leg sideways. He chuckled, held her leg still so that he could lick it off. He drove her wild with desire, his tongue working tirelessly against the skin that was so filled with nerve endings. He did the same to her other thigh, sending her crazy. He nibbled at her flesh, so close to her sensitive folds yet still not touching.

At last he scooped ice cream onto the end of the spoon and held it up between her legs. He grinned wickedly, hair in his eyes. "Ready?" he said.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes as the ice cream slid off the spoon. When the cold of it touched her, she jerked involuntarily upwards, moaning.

He dripped some more. She felt its coldness trickling down through her delicate folds, smelled its fruity sweetness. Another cold blob landed. She groaned, clutching the blankets, her head rolling from side to side.

He put the ice cream tub on the floor and settled himself between her legs. He gently prised her folds apart and put his warm tongue there.

Karen moaned loudly.

He licked her in long, slow strokes, dragging his tongue up and down, the way you would eat an ice cream cone. She tipped her head back and groaned, grabbing at his hair. He cupped her buttocks in both hands and lifted her up, licking at all the trickles of sticky melted liquid.

She gasped, feeling the tip of his tongue probe gently. He worked it in, causing tingles of excitement to course through her. He then dragged his tongue back up and circled it around her aching nub. She wriggled helplessly.

He inserted two fingers. She shuddered as a wave of pleasure hit her. Her stomach muscles tensed and contracted as he began to work at her, his fingers sliding stickily in and out. She smelled her own musky odour mixed with the sweet smell of mango ice cream. She arched her hips, encouraging him on with garbled words that meant nothing except more, more, please, _don't stop_.

He was watching her face, gauging her expression. She was beginning to love the way he did that. At first it was slightly disconcerting, but now she believed he was judging her moods precisely, knowing the exact moment when she was ready to try something different. How could he be so instinctive? Men didn't usually pay _this_ much attention, did they? Or maybe it was just that she'd never been with the _right_ man.

She looked back at him with a sudden feeling of such euphoria that it was hard to keep it from showing on her face. She beamed at him, at his beautiful eyes, his elegant nose and his smiling mouth, that amazing lock of hair that he could never control. She felt some kind of energy spill out of her and into him, there was no other way to describe it. She laughed involuntarily, felt her own eyes shining. He rewarded her with a broad grin of his own, showing his brilliant white teeth. She reached for him, wanting to feel him inside her. He removed his fingers from her and lowered himself into her arms. They kissed deeply and hungrily, murmuring into each others' mouths, stroking each other gently, writhing against each others' naked bodies.

He guided himself into her. He pushed in slowly, thrilling her with every solid inch that slid inside. She breathed out audibly as he entered all the way, felt the solid tip of him press hard against the entrance to her cervix. He lay atop her, letting her settle. She gazed at him through her eyelashes, her grey eyes dark and smoky. He felt heat spread through him and he swelled even more, if that was physically possible.

He kissed her again, opening her lips with his and sliding his tongue inside. She wriggled down into the blankets and lifted her legs up and apart, hooking them around his waist. He began to move inside her, slowly pulling out all the way, then gradually pushing back in. His back was sore and aching from all his previous exertions but he didn't care, he pushed into her slowly again and again, desperate for all the physical intimacy they were able to share from now on as the clock began ticking.

Karen moaned in time with his slow and steady rhythm, rocking gently on the huge, soft bed. Every cell inside her responded with eagerness to the exquisite sensations of the way he slid in and out. She lifted her hips higher, letting him push deeper. She uttered strange and incoherent noises in his ear.

He responded willingly, pushing deep into her, grinding himself against her with every thrust. He groaned in his throat, his eyes shut tight. His muscles screamed with tension. He thrust harder, holding firmly onto her shoulders, his fingers digging deep into her flesh.

He increased the pace, kept his rhythm steady. The bed rocked and tapped against the wall. She gazed up at him, at his look of studious concentration. His face was flushed, his lips parted slightly. His eyes were shut. He was lost in his own world now.

She ran soothing hands over his back, feeling the sheen of sweat coating his skin. She felt his undulating muscles straining. She hugged him harder, digging her heels into his backside. He responded by thrusting harder and faster.

She cried out in pleasure and pain as he began pounding her hard, banging into her, bruising her. She scratched his back with her purple nails, bit his shoulder. She wanted to send him home with some physical reminders of her and what she'd done to him. She bit harder. He grunted at the feel of her teeth sinking into his flesh.

He thrust faster and faster, harder and harder. She clung to him with her arms, legs and teeth. He rode her like a stallion. She cried out sharply as her climax hit her, blindsiding her with its intensity. She bucked and arched beneath him, her hair whipping across her face. He carried on thrusting. His husky groans made him sound like a wounded animal and went straight to her heart. She stroked his dampened skin until he finally came with a series of shudders, his hips jerking spasmodically until he'd finished.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. She felt his heart hammering inside him, battering his ribs like a fist. She embraced him tightly, soothing him as though he were a child, feeling strangely protective.

_La petite mort_. The little death. Man at his most vulnerable.

His breathing slowly subsided, became regular. He lifted his head and smiled lazily at her, his eyes heavy and doped. "So, how was it for you?" he asked hoarsely.

"Out of this galaxy," she smiled back, stroking his nose. "Unbelievable."

"That's good," he murmured. "That's good. Because..." he hefted himself onto his elbows, "...that could well have been my swan song."

"Ahh. My little drama queen," she chuckled. "Oh, um...by the way, I'm sorry I bit you."

"Oh yeah." He twisted his head to peer at the bruise that was emerging on his shoulder. "Jeez, you really _did_ bite me, didn't you." he touched the mark gingerly with one fingertip.

"Don't worry, I've had my shots."

"How am I going to explain _this_ when I go swimming tomorrow afternoon?"

"Shark attack?"

"Never mind. I think I'll show it off, to be honest with you. It'll impress the guys no end. They think I'm the quiet one, you see."

"Hmm. Good idea. I could give you a few more, if you like. I could give you a big _hickey_, right..." she made to lunge at his neck, he pushed her away, laughing. "...oh come on, spoilsport."

"No hickeys, please," he begged. "What are they called? Tramp stamps?"

"Those are tattoos."

"No, tattoos are okay, hickeys are not."

"Well, what do you think that is, on your shoulder? That's a big hickey, and you want to show it off!" She thought of something then. "Uh...let's see your back." She turned him around, grimaced. "Um...I appear to have scratched you a little bit, too." She ran her finger over the reddened raised ridges lacing his shoulder blades.

"I thought I could feel something stinging."

"No broken skin, but, er...I think you might have to keep your shirt on tomorrow, or it could be embarrassing."

"Hmm. I guess I'll see how I feel. I kind of like the idea of being scarred for life by a beautiful woman. On the outside, I mean."

She nudged him playfully. "As if I'd want to scar you anywhere else," she grinned.

He smiled then, raked his hand through his sweaty hair. "If I wasn't going home tomorrow, I'd find the nearest observatory and take you there. There's a good view of Saturn this week. Clear skies permitting, of course."

"Saturn's my favourite," she said, her eyes wide. "It's not the furthest out, but for some reason it strikes me as the loneliest. I mean, Jupiter looks quite happy being where it is, but Saturn always looks like it's missing some friends."

"Oo-kaayy," he said, "maybe I should just take you to the dog pound so you can look at some puppies instead._ Barbie_."

She whacked him again. "John! Okay, I'm sorry, but I don't know how to talk like a scientist. Gamma, nebula...whatever."

"Ah, Eliza, the fun I'm going to have with you," he grinned. He caught her up in his arms and wrestled with her. She squealed in protest, batting at him with her hands, huffing and puffing as he tried to pin her down.

He looked down at her, struggling beneath him. She looked back at him.

"It's a shame we're not kids anymore," he said. "We could do that whole 'running away together' thing."

"You'd run away with me?"

"Why not? Except...you know, I can't."

"The thought was there, though. That was nice."

He climbed off her, started picking things up from the floor. The discarded ice cream tub, a bowl of strawberries, their champagne glasses. She watched him move around the room, admiring his naked body, his light golden tan enhanced by the muted glow from the concealed wall lamps. It was after midnight. The time to turn into a pumpkin was nearing.

She pulled back the luxurious bed covers and crawled in. If only she had a bed like this. She snuggled down into it as John continued on his restless meanderings around the rooms. She heard him stacking the platters and putting them back on the cart. She heard the trundle of the mini bar as it slid back into its hidden alcove. She heard the sound of her own breathing, and felt the beating of her own heart.

After a while he came back into the bedroom. He switched off the lights in the rest of the suite and climbed into bed beside her. She snuggled up to him as he switched off the wall lights and the room fell into darkness.

He pulled her into his arms and wrapped his legs around hers. She buried her face in the warmth of his neck and inhaled the scent of his hair. He pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and brushed his lips against her forehead.

"I hope the morning doesn't come too soon," he said.

But the morning was already on its way.

####


	7. Chapter 7

_And so the day has come for them to part._

_But don't worry, there's plenty more story to go yet._

_Thanks once again for all the enthusiastic reviews, some of which have made me snort tea down my nose! Big John has really struck a chord with his non-stop sexiness. I think he should come with a warning. Caution: Seriously Hot Dude._

**_Disclaimers once again, The Tracys aren't mine (waah) but the OCs are. _**

**_TV-Verse. Always TV-Verse. _**

**_Rated M for sexual content and swearing._**

_Right! On with it._

_####_

Karen's eyes opened slowly. John was nibbling her neck, dusting her shoulder with soft kisses. A grey gloom came through the drapes, indicating the start of a new day. She sighed and wriggled back against him.

"Ah, you're awake," he murmured, stroking the hair from her face.

"Mm. What time is it?" her voice was slightly slurred with sleep.

"7.30am. I set the alarm for 8, but I always wake up before it."

"So what do you have planned for the next half hour?"

"I don't know," he said devilishly, pulling her hips against his groin. "Anything can happen."

And probably will, she thought, feeling his morning erection pressing firmly against her. She had a pressing need, though. First things first. "I have to use the bathroom," she said, throwing back the covers and pushing herself into a sitting position. She turned to look at him, first at the expression on his face, which was very lusty, and then at the cause of this lust. His erection was massive. She watched him start stroking it, thrilled by the loving way in which he touched himself.

"Don't be long," he smiled.

"Don't get too carried away without me," she replied with a wink.

In the bathroom, she took care of her needs and flushed the toilet. She washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Hair all over the place as usual, like a big ginger bird's nest. Hollowed out eyes, smudges of mascara. Flushed cheeks. A hint of those freckles, stars he had called them. She turned her head three quarters of the way to the left, and then to the right. No double chin just yet. She bared her teeth, picked up the toothbrush she'd remembered to pack at the last minute and gave them a good clean with his minty toothpaste. God that felt better. She looked at herself again. What had his other girlfriends looked like? Gorgeous models? Poised rich ladies? Sex kittens?

Oh, stop it, she told herself. You're not exactly The Wicked Witch of the West.

She dried her hands and left the bathroom.

"I thought you'd fallen in," he grinned, looking her slowly up and down as she approached in all her glory. "Got trapped in the U-Bend."

"Would you have come and got me out?"

"Sure," he chuckled. "I'd have brought a team of guys to help, too."

"What, like superhero plumbers?"

He laughed out loud. "Something like that."

She climbed back into bed, curled up against his warm body. "And how are _you _getting on?" she purred suggestively, reaching beneath the covers. She closed her fingers around him. God, he was big.

She pushed back the covers and began stroking him, rubbing her thumb over the tip. He nestled back into the pillows, watching her every move through half-closed eyes.

She ran her fingers up and down, up and down. She fondled the head, teased its rubbery smoothness. She lowered her head and licked across it with her tongue.

He wound his fingers in her hair. His stomach contracted with his laboured breathing, his thighs twitched as her hair tickled his skin. She slipped him into the back of her throat, sucked hard, drew her lips all the way back to the tip again, repeating this process over and over again. He lifted her hair away so that he could watch.

She was diligent in her ministrations. She did things with her other hand that made him tense, gasping. She sucked him hard, sliding her tongue up and down and around him like a snake. She found the spot inside that made him jump. She pressed gently into the soft area at the top of his thigh. He held his breath, released it, held it again. After a few moments she heard him utter a low groan and held him in her mouth while he climaxed.

She raised her head, licking her lips. Her mouth tingled, her neck muscles throbbed. She crawled onto his heaving chest, felt his beating heart against her cheek. He held her close, stroked her tangled curls. "I sure wish I wasn't going home," he said breathlessly. "I'd stay here in bed and just order room service. Then I'd eat it off your naked body and you could give me incredible blow jobs all day."

"Sounds good ," she agreed. "I'd put whipped cream on your ****, and top it off with a cherry."

"Now you tell me."

"Come up and see me some time, and that's exactly what I'll do."

"Lady, you have got yourself a deal."

At that moment, his wrist comm began its insistent beeping.

"That means it's 8 o'clock," she sighed. "All good things come to an end, huh?"

"I guess so." he picked up the wrist comm, stared at it with a frown. "I only asked for an alarm call. Excuse me a moment, will you?"

He got out of bed, took the wrist comm into the bathroom. She wondered why he had to do that. If he had told her he was communicating with his brother on it, then what was there to hide?

Oh, she was going to have a tough time of it when he was gone, wondering what he was up to. He said he wasn't married, there were no secret girlfriends, he had told her the truth so far. Maybe he worked for the Government in some way. That would explain the evasiveness.

Oh, Karen, stop _questioning_ it!

In the bathroom, John switched the screen on and came face to face with Scott.

Scott winced. "Did you join a nudist colony or something, John? Because this is the second time I've seen you naked, and I'm starting to worry. And what the heck is _that_ on your shoulder?"

"Aw, don't worry Scott, I won't be turning up at the airport in the buff. I'm just making the most of my last couple of hours. As for that," he twisted his head to look at the tell-tale bruise, "it's exactly what it looks like." He put the wrist comm down next to the sink and went over to the toilet.

"It looks like a hickey."

"I prefer to call it a love-bite."

Scott snorted. "Well, hickey or love-bite, Romeo, just make sure you do turn up at the airport. Dad'd hit the roof if you didn't come home. Which reminds me, he's a little nervy right now because of some blip in the world markets, so if you've run up a big expenses sheet it's best not to mention it until he's feeling better."

"No problems there, Scott. I kept my spending to a bare minimum."

"That's good to hear. It's been a pretty quiet week for us- we had one callout to an explosion caused by a gas leak in a block of apartments in London. Luckily no-one was hurt. We dropped in on Penelope seeing as we were in her neck of the woods, but apart from that it's been pretty uneventful."

"Which is good, I guess," said John.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Scott paused for a moment. "John, are you using the...ah...?"

"Yes I am. It's 8am, I just got up. You want me to hold it in for you?"

"John, you're disgusting. You were such a _nice_ kid. When did you turn into the slobby one from The Odd Couple?"

John laughed.

"Anyway, if you're going to be indisposed for the next couple of minutes, tell me about this girl of yours. She doesn't know anything, does she? I mean, tell me you didn't..."

"What? Sing like a canary? No of course not. Gee, what do you take me for?"

"You know me, Captain Paranoid. The thought of dad having to haul your skinny ass over the coals hurts me in the pit of my stomach."

"That won't happen, Scott. I didn't breathe a word. I write books on astronomy. You know the spiel."

"So. You like her, huh?"

"Yes, I do. I like her a lot. And before you ask, yes I am going to keep in touch with her. I'd be stupid if I let this one get away. She's genuine, Scott, I can tell. She doesn't have any agendas, she's not a weirdo. She's just who she is. You'd like her. She's got a lot of natural curiosity."

"Not too much curiosity, I hope."

"Scott, you're starting to get like dad. Everything's got to be questioned and analysed. Stop it." He finished what he was doing, got up and flushed the toilet. He began washing his hands. He checked his own reflection in the mirror, checked the length of his stubble.

"John, put a lid on the free and easy attitude, okay? Don't let this girl go to your head. You've only just met her. You have no idea who she is. If you met Penny, you wouldn't know she was an agent. I'm just saying."

"She's not an agent, Scott. She works in the library. She comes home and drinks wine and watches TV. Her world is several million miles away from Lady Penelope's. No one is in any danger from this woman."

"Okay." Scott fell silent.

"So I'll see you at noon, then?" said John, picking up the wrist comm and looking at his older brother's straight faced expression.

"Yes. Noon. At the light aircraft terminal. John? Is she...I mean, are you..."

"She's not coming to the airport, Scott, don't worry. As far as she's concerned, I'm taking a regular commercial flight, although she hasn't actually asked my destination yet. She's kind of stopped asking questions since I told her there was nothing to worry about. Oh, and by the way, Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Her name is Karen."

####

They shared a last shower together. They didn't talk much. They lathered each other up with a variety of scented shower gels and creams, trying them all. They washed each other's hair again. They kissed slowly under the steaming jets of water, pretended they were in some tropical rainforest. He soaped her breasts and kissed her throat when she tipped her head back. He pulled her close, soaped her buttocks, put his hand between her legs. She ran her hands over the muscles in his back, caressed the valley of his spine. She loved the feel of him. He was slender but strong. His muscles were lean, not overly developed, but all in perfect working order. She held the back of his neck and kissed him again. His hair hung over his eyes and dripped water onto her face.

He leaned her against the wall and lifted her leg up, sliding into her. Her made love to her gently, looking into her eyes, turning her face back towards him when she began to feel vulnerable and looked away.

Her legs trembled as the sensations began to take over. He kept her steady, his feet braced, his hips pushing up into her, sliding in and out until she began moaning huskily, droplets of water spraying from her lips. He pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue working its way deep inside. He pushed up into her, over and over, until they came almost simultaneously, not with a fanfare this time, just a tightening of muscles and then a sweet release, a series of small but strong shudders, and then quiet.

Just the sound of rushing water and breathing.

He finished his shower and got out. She carried on washing, rinsing her hair, rinsing away all traces of him. He grabbed a towel and left the room in silence.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, he was shirtless in a pair of cream slacks, the towel slung around his neck. His suitcase was open on the bed. He was pulling hangers off the rail in the closet, opening drawers to remove shirts and socks and underwear. She went over to her holdall and fished out her jeans and her favourite peasant blouse. For some reason she felt a little awkward, so she took her clothes into the main room to get dried off and dressed. He didn't say anything as he watched her go.

At length, he went over to the table by the bed and pulled up the concealed room service screen. He sat there perusing the breakfast menu and was tapping out codes when she came back into the room fully clothed.

"I'm ordering some breakfast," he said. "how do you like your eggs? I know...unfertilised, ha ha."

She grimaced at the old joke. "I didn't intend to stay for breakfast," she admitted.

"You've got to eat, my girl," he told her. "Besides, I'm not eating on my own. And I don't want you going yet, anyway."

In _that_ case. She smiled gratefully, went over and kissed his forehead. "I love it when a man takes control," she purred into his ear.

"Sit down." He patted the bed next to him. "Now. Eggs?"

"Scrambled. With smoked salmon and hot, crusty buttered bread. Coffee and orange juice. Ooh, papaya juice, some of that, too. And bacon. Oh, pancakes, them too. Lots of syrup. Wow, blueberry muffins, yes please."

He laughed, tapping in the codes for everything she wanted. It was going to be a while before either of them were going to get the chance to eat like this again.

They sat at the table, digging in to stacks of pancakes and maple syrup. Karen ate greedily, realising just how hungry she was. She ate huge forkfuls of creamy scrambled eggs, drank perfect coffee brewed from freshly roasted grounds. John pushed the fruit bowl towards her, a smile playing at his lips as she took a handful of grapes.

"God, this is good. Does this place do takeout?"

"I'm sure something could be arranged."

She eyed him over a forkful of egg. "What are you, in charge?"

He laughed. "Don't I wish."

"I could really get used to this, I have to say. I hardly ever eat breakfast on my own. Maybe toast or a bacon sandwich. Not a feast like this. And this coffee is orgasmic."

"Yeah, I think they get the beans from Brazil or someplace. Fairtrade, of course."

"Good to hear it. Place like this can afford to give something back."

"Oh, it does, Karen. I should get you some background information on The Walburn. This is a very ecologically sound place." Whoops, he almost said 'investment'. "You'd change your perceptions in an instant."

"I guess I just feel uncomfortable around great, big ostentatious displays of wealth."

"Believe it or not, so do I. But there's nothing wrong with having a bit of money so long as you use it wisely. And maybe some of the people who stay here are a little ostentatious, but believe me, the guys behind it aren't."

She chewed thoughtfully. His sincerity seemed genuine. So maybe he was in the hotel business, too. That would explain why he was on the top floor, and why he had money, or acted like he did. Maybe she was getting a little closer to the truth now.

She raised her glass of orange juice. "To The Walburn, and all who sail in her," she said.

After breakfast, Karen helped him pack. She brought him his toiletries from the bathroom, helped him to fold his shirts and trousers. He wore good labels, but nothing showy. He had class.

He picked a white button down shirt and slipped it on, buttoning from the second one down. She went over and straightened his collar. "You look exceptionally handsome," she smiled, running her fingers through his blond curl. "Those stewardesses will fawn over you all the way."

If only, he thought to himself. It'll just be Scott, and he doesn't fawn over anyone, _least_ of all me.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then moved down to her mouth. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly. She savoured the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his aftershave, the way he moved in her arms, the soft rustle of his cotton shirt, the way his hips pressed into hers.

She rested her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, listened to him breathing.

"I should go soon," she whispered. "It's after ten, and you're leaving at eleven. I don't want to prolong this any longer. It hurts too much."

Shit, she shouldn't have said that. Why make him feel bad over something that was beyond his control? But he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the smell of it.

"I know," he murmured. "I feel the same way."

They stood there, locked together, for what seemed like a lifetime, but when they separated at last, it felt like a fleeting moment that had passed too soon.

He smiled ruefully. "Give me your contact numbers, I'll call you. I promise."

She nodded. She went over to the bedside table and picked up the Walburn notepad and pen. She scribbled her name, address, home phone number, mobile phone number, email address, work phone number and even her mother's phone number. She smiled at the list, shook her head as she handed it over. "Maybe a little too much information?" she admitted.

"Not at all. The more the better. I'm a stickler for detail, as you must have realised by now." He folded the paper in half and tucked it into a zipped pocket inside his suitcase.

"Do I get a number for you?" she ventured.

He did have a personal cell phone. They all did. He fished it out of his bag, switched it on. It immediately began beeping with missed messages. He entered the mobile number she had given him, then pressed send. "You should have it now," he said. "But don't be surprised if you call and it's turned off. It's usually my publisher or someone asking for a quote."

"Isn't it nice to be in demand?"

"No. Just give me my telescope and a starry night and I'm happy. Truly. Oh, and a pretty girl to stargaze with, of course."

"I love stargazing," she said coyly.

"What's not to love? Some guys fish to relax. A blanket, some eats, a few beers, that's what it's all about. Communing with the elements. Besides, you get to make love outdoors. That's always a bonus."

She shivered at the thought of making love with him under a blanket of stars. She traced a finger down his shirt front. "You won't leave it too long, will you, John?"

"Honey, I'll do whatever I can to reduce the time I spend away from you. But I have my obligations, and no doubt you have yours, too."

"I wouldn't call the library an obligation. I only do three days a week, sometimes four."

"It's not going to be easy. But we'll do it. What did I ask you to do?"

"Trust you."

"Yes. So give me the chance to prove I can be trusted. Okay, lady?"

"Okay, mister. I trust you."

"Wonderful. Well, guess you'd better get your stuff together. Here, take some of this fruit. Oh, and some of those shower gels, and those soaps. We'll see if we can get you a towel, too."

This time it was his turn to fuss over her while she packed. Not that she had much packing, but he insisted on giving her fruit and fripperies until she had to laugh at the small mountain of items that were piling up on the bed.

"We'd better do this legit," he admitted. "I'll call reception and have a goody bag made up."

"John!" she protested, but he stood firm.

"Okay, a Gift Bag, that sounds better. It'll be great. And you can come here whenever you want, you know. The restaurant and bar are open to everyone. I'll make sure you get special service."

"So you are in charge!"

"No, but I'll admit I have connections. So stop protesting."

"All right, John. I appreciate it, really. I do."

He drew her into another embrace, kissed the top of her head. "Now, just let me make that call," he said.

####

They went down together in the elevator. John looked smart in his maroon jacket even with her battered holdall slung over his shoulder. They held hands, watching the floor numbers light up in reverse as they descended. As the ground floor approached she squeezed his hand tightly, and he turned his head and gave her a kiss.

The doors opened into a bustling lobby. John led her out past a small group of people waiting to get in. Ambient music floated in the background. He led her across the smooth polished floor to the big reception desk.

The Head Receptionist, a dapper man in a silk tie, came over at once. "Ah, good morning Mr. Tracy, Miss Meadows. I hope you've had a pleasant stay?"

"Yes we have, thank you Michael," said John with a charming smile. "I was just wondering, I called down for a Gift Bag...?"

"Yes, of course. I have it right here." the man went into the office and came back with the biggest gift bag Karen had ever seen. She couldn't keep her eyes from opening wide. John grinned and squeezed her hand.

"Look at the size of it!" she squeaked.

He put his lips to her ear. "Where have I heard_ that_ before?"

She dug him in the ribs as the Head Receptionist lifted the flap at the end of the desk and passed the Gift Bag through to John. "With our finest compliments to you, Miss Meadows," the man said, looking directly at her without a trace of pretentiousness.

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "Thank you very much. This is a lovely gesture. Thank you."

"Don't open it 'til you get home," said John. "Make it a surprise."

"Would you like me to arrange for your taxi now, Mr. Tracy?"

"Yes, that would be great, Michael. Thanks."

They moved away from the reception desk into the main part of the lobby. John led Karen to a plush seating area and settled next to her on a red leather sofa, putting her holdall and the giant goody bag on the floor.

"Well, guess this is it," he said, turning to her, flashing her a forlorn smile.

She looked back at him, wishing desperately that she could turn the clock back to Friday morning, to the moment when she saw him in the library for the first time. He had dazzled her right from the start. She had never met anyone like him. She felt her eyes prickling again, her lip wobble.

"Don't," he soothed. "We'll see each other again. We will."

For some reason, that just made it worse. A tear sprang into her eye, fell through her lashes without warning. He took hold of her hands and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "Don't cry," he said.

She couldn't help it. More tears fell, though she tried hard to keep them in. He pulled her head to his shoulder, fished in his pockets for a tissue or a handkerchief.

"In my bag," she sniffled. "Front pocket, there's some Handy Andies."

He bent down, dug into her bag, retrieved the small packet of tissues. "Anticipated this moment, did you?" he smiled, pulling one out and handing it to her.

She wiped at her eyes, rubbed her nose, pulled an embarrassed face. "Look at me, making a show of myself," she laughed weakly.

"You're not. You're beautiful. Red suits you."

She punched him, half crying, half laughing. "Trust you to make me laugh."

He moved hair away from her face, peeling it from her dampened cheeks. "I just don't like to see you upset," he said softly. "I wish I could make it better."

"You are making it better. You're making me laugh." She sniffed gratefully.

Something caught his eye. He glanced out of the large plate glass window. "Your taxi's here," he said, pointing.

She looked through blurry tear stained eyes at a huge, shiny black limo that had just pulled up outside. "No way. No freaking _way _is that my taxi."

"It freaking is your taxi. And in my opinion it's still not enough. You ought to be flown home on the back of a unicorn with a heavenly choir of angels leading the way."

A huge sob burst out of her, but she grinned at him at the same time. "Imagine the scene that would cause," she giggled, then blew her nose hard into the soggy tissue.

He stood up, indicated to Arnold the doorman that they were ready. He bent and picked up her bags. "Come on, honey. Let's get you home."

####

John stood on the pavement as Arnold held the rear door of the limo open for Karen. The older man watched silently and not unsympathetically as Karen and John embraced tightly for the last time. He watched John stroke her auburn curls, whisper words of comfort into her ear. He saw the way she responded, trying so hard not to cry. He'd seen enough goodbyes outside this hotel to realise when two people were tearing each other apart. He needed to maintain dignity and decorum at all times, but inside he felt a pang of sadness in his heart, remembering a time when he, too, was young and in the first flushes of a new romance.

Karen stepped away from John at last. Almost as though she couldn't bear to look at him any more, she stumbled to the open door and climbed in, sinking into the plush upholstery. Arnold placed her bags on the floor in front of her, and smiled at her, hoping he could convey some sort of understanding. She must have noticed, because she smiled back, her cheeks wet, her chin trembling.

"Fredericks will make sure you get home safely, Miss Meadows," he said in a gentle voice.

"Thank you," she said, mopping at her eyes. "You're very kind."

Arnold closed the door quietly. Fredericks started the motor. The limo purred into life.

John leaned down towards the window. He put his hand in and reached for hers. "I'll call tonight," he said. "I promise you. As soon as I get home and settled, I'll call you."

"All right, John," she nodded. "Thank you. Thank you, for everything." _I'll miss you_. She pressed his hand against her mouth, soaking it with her tears. He stroked her face, touched the constellation of freckles on her nose, held her under the chin.

"Thank you too, Karen. I mean it. I'll call." He smiled, but there was a desolate look in his eyes. He couldn't hide his feelings either, it seemed.

Reluctantly he pulled his arm back through the window and stood up.

"Are you ready, miss?" asked Fredericks, quietly.

"Yes, I'm ready. Thank you." She settled back into the seat and looked out at John one last time before Fredericks turned the limo out into the stream of traffic. John pressed his mouth to his hand and blew her a kiss. She turned in the seat and continued to stare at him through the rear window. The limo purred along, easing into the next lane. John grew smaller and smaller until at last he was gone from view, hidden by the traffic pulling up behind them.

She turned and faced forwards, her eyes fixed to the bags in front of her. She pulled out another tissue and held it to her face as the bags blurred and she felt the tears begin to flow again. In the driver's seat, Fredericks sighed and gripped the wheel in gloved hands.

Sometimes he really hated this job.

John stood with Arnold as the two of them watched the limo disappear. "Well, Arnold, guess that's it," the young man sighed, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tracy," said Arnold. "A wise man once said, 'In order for there to be a beginning, there must also be an ending.'"

John looked at the older man, at the twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "Which wise man said that, may I ask?"

The older man smiled. "I believe it was Arnold Drake, sir."

"Well, Arnold Drake, I'll bear that in mind. One thing's for sure, when you meet someone that changes your whole world in an instant, you certainly don't want to see the last of them."

"No, sir. You do not."

John put his hand out. Arnold looked down, then extended his own, keeping a modicum of dignity as the younger man shook it hard. "You're a good man, Arnold. And now, I'll be getting along. I have to get my own stuff in order, but I'll be back in a jiffy. I hope they'll be laying on a cab like that for _me_."

Arnold watched as John turned sharply on his heel and strode back towards the entrance to the hotel. He was an exceedingly fine figure of a man, but as he neared the door Arnold saw the slender hand that went suddenly to the mouth and the hurried way the young man pushed his hair back as he went through into the lobby.

Arnold sighed and drew his shoulders back, resuming his stately position in front of the building.

_####_


	8. Chapter 8

_This chapter, John heads back to Base with his beloved brother Scott._

_Disclaimers: TV-Verse, Tracys not mine, Ocs mine, **Rated M for adult content and swearing**, though probably not much of either in this chapter as Karen and John have parted company. _

_Again, thanks so much for all the reviews that make me LOL and keep me going. (John 'Twice A Chapter' Tracy. Lol!)._

_All your comments are very, very much apppreciated. Thanks and love!_

_####_

Scott drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, looked at his watch again. Ten to twelve. John should be here soon. They had a take off slot scheduled for twelve ten. There was a flying class starting up, and there were lots of eager would-be pilots milling around the cafeteria in the light aircraft terminal.

He picked up his coffee cup and drained the very last dregs. It was pretty foul stuff, but caffeine was caffeine and he'd been flying for hours to get here. If only he could have brought the 'bird, but his dad would have had something to say about that.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as someone shrieked with laughter a little too close to his ear. Some of these students were just kids, and were behaving like kids. Living on Tracy Island was starting to increase his sensitivity to other peoples' noise, especially shouting and shrieking. He couldn't wait to haul his brother's ass into that cockpit and get the hell out of there.

At three minutes to twelve Scott looked up and saw John push his way through the door past a gaggle of young men. He got to his feet, drawing himself up to his full six foot two, and held his arms out as his younger brother approached.

"Ah! John, John, good to see you, kid!" he shouted in a pure showman's voice, knowing how much John would hate the attention being drawn to them both. Sure enough, John blushed and swatted at Scott's arms before being enveloped in a monstrous bear hug that squeezed the breath out of him.

"Scott, you ass," he muttered. "Grow up!"

"Well, how about that?" Scott held his brother at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Very smart. Nice jacket."

"Thanks. Same to you. That thing still holding together, I see." John frowned at Scott's battered USAF jacket that he'd owned for as long as John could remember.

"Thought it would impress the kids," Scott grinned, indicating the rest of the cafeteria's occupants with his thumb.

"Nothing impresses today's kids," said John with a wry smirk. "They'll just think you're some old show-off trying to relive his glory days."

"Funny you should say that. Anyway, little bro, I'm afraid there's no more time for chit chat, we gotta get moving. 12:10 take off, or we get stuck behind this traffic."

####

Fredericks turned the limo at the main intersection that led to the part of town where Karen lived. She began to feel increasingly conspicuous riding in this big posh car. She toyed nervously with the straps of her holdall for a few moments, then leaned forward in her seat.

"Um...Mr. Fredericks?"

Fredericks looked up into the rear view mirror. She noticed he had eyes almost the same colour as John's. She swallowed hard, then spoke again. "Um...would you mind dropping me off at the park gates? It's just that it's a nice morning, and I wouldn't mind walking through the park. That is, if you don't mind?"

"That's perfectly all right, Miss Meadows," Fredericks said with a smile in his voice, "You don't need to explain anything. However, I'm happy to drive you home if you change your mind in the meantime."

There was something nice about Fredericks. She smiled shyly at his eyes in the mirror. "It's just that...well, I don't normally go riding around in limos, and I don't know what my neighbours will think."

"Miss Meadows, if I may speak candidly," said Fredericks, flexing his gloved fingers on the wheel, "to hell with your neighbours. This is a Rolls Royce Silver Bird Mark 6, one of the finest, cleanest most ecologically sound motors ever designed, and you certainly shouldn't feel embarrassed to be seen in one. Tell _that_ to any of your neighbours if they even dare to ask."

Karen smiled, decided she liked this man. "In that case, Mr. Fredericks, take me home."

####

Scott waited for John to climb into the cockpit of the small red jet plane _Ladybird_, then handed his suitcase up. He climbed into the pilot's seat and closed the cockpit canopy. He went through his pre-flight checks leaving John to look through the window at the rest of the activity going on around the airport. A huge commercial airliner came in to land, the air shimmering around it. Another taxied to the end of the runway. The kids from the flight school were now milling around outside, several small Pipers and Cessnas coming in to view.

"Let's get the heck out of here," muttered Scott, as their jet whined into life. He made contact with air traffic control and turned the plane towards the light aircraft runway.

They taxied out, the plane juddering slightly over the tarmac. Scott received a request to wait at the end of the runway for further instructions. John glanced at his brother's profile, admitting to himself that there was something beautiful about Scott in his element. His eldest brother seemed joined to the plane, both man and machine working as one. All of Scott's natural instincts were attuned to flying. He must have been an eagle in a former life.

They waited at the end of the runway as the commercial airliner that had been taxiing at the same time began whining in preparation for take off. They watched it hurtle down the runway and lift its nose into the air, ascending majestically towards the clouds.

A few minutes later Scott received the go-ahead and they began their own rapid acceleration, quickly gaining speed until before John knew it, Scott had lifted them into the air and they too were soaring skywards.

####

The limo pulled up to the kerb outside Karen's apartment building and Fredericks switched off the motor. He got out of the car and opened the rear door, standing to attention as Karen struggled out in a rather ungainly fashion, clutching her holdall and huge gift bag. She took in the sight of him as he shut the door behind her. He was about John's height, five foot eleven, give or take an inch. He was older than John but no less handsome, in a craggy way. He had an almost-smile on his lips. He put his gloved hand out for her bags.

"Allow me," he said.

She handed her bags over mutely. Fredericks followed her to the main door. Two woman passing by stopped and stared, their mouths gaping open.

Karen unlocked the door, turned to Fredericks. What was the done thing to do? She couldn't invite him in, surely?

But Fredericks merely handed her the bags as she stood on the threshold, and tipped his hat to her. "Mr. Tracy has instructed that if you ever need our services, you are only to call reception and a car will be sent for you," he told her. "I shall do my best to ensure that I'm your driver."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Fredericks," she said, her heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of John's name. "I'll certainly bear that in mind!"

"Then good day, Miss Meadows. It's been a pleasure." He bowed slightly, then turned and went back to the limo. She watched him open the driver's door and settle in, and lifted her hand in a small wave as he started the engine and pulled away.

Well. _That _was an experience!

She sighed heavily, pushed the door open, and bundled her bags inside.

####

"So! Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. What have we been up to?"

John was staring out the window, his chin planted in the palm of his right hand. He had hoped they'd have a quiet journey home, but that didn't seem to be the case. Scott was wired. He'd probably had too much coffee.

"Aw, you know. Stuff."

"Stuff? Is that what it's called nowadays? How'd you get the hickey? Vacuum cleaner nozzle?"

"No, Scott. I stopped making out with electrical appliances when I was sixteen."

"That's a shame. You missed out on the Acme Suck-O-Lux."

John heaved a huge dramatic sigh.

"So tell me. This Karen. What's she like?"

"Beautiful."

"And?"

"And, perfect."

"Looks? Is she blonde? Brunette? What?"

"Redhead. A bit like Gordon. I mean, the colour of her hair, she doesn't _look_ like Gordon." John pushed his chin further into his hand. He couldn't stop thinking about her. He could see her stretched out naked on the bed, her grey eyes smouldering. He sighed again.

"John, stop sighing, you'll suck all the oxygen out of the air and asphyxiate us both."

_I wouldn't mind asphyxiating you right now_, John thought irritably.

"And she doesn't know anything, right?" Scott went on.

"No, she doesn't. She thinks I'm something to do with the hotel. And she knows I write books."

"Ah yes, the hotel. How is The Walburn? I stayed there myself two years ago. They still got that bath with the footholds in?"

John turned and stared at Scott. "Tell me you didn't stay in the Executive Suite."

"Top floor? Mini bar the size of a small house?"

"No!" John exclaimed. "Please tell me I didn't just have sex in the same bathtub you had sex in. Jesus Christ...and the same bed?"

Scott laughed heartily, punched John playfully on the thigh. "Small world, huh little brother?"

"You asshole. You kept that from me? You jerk."

"Hey, steady on there. We're not the only ones. Alan and Tin-Tin stayed there six months ago. Don't you know _anything_ that goes on in our family?"

John buried his face in both hands. "I screwed in the same bath and the same bed that Tin-Tin and Alan screwed in?"

"Well, knowing those two, they were more likely to screw out on the balcony or in the elevator, but yeah, I'm afraid so. We've all done it in there at some point, I think. Probably even dad."

"Nooooo!" John wailed. "Please, someone tell me I was adopted."

"Sorry, boy," Scott grinned, ruffling John's hair. "You're 100% Tracy. And that just proves it!"

"All my happy memories. Ruined."

Scott was laughing like a drain. John tried hard to resist joining in, but the older man's throaty chuckles were too infectious. John hit his brother on the arm, tried scowling, but finally gave in. He shook his head and laughed in resignation.

"We must be the most dysfunctional family this side of the Bradys, all sleeping in the same beds and everything," he muttered. "God help Karen if she ever meets the rest of us."

####

Karen sat on the bed with the remnants of the bottle of wine she and John had shared with their pizza. She hauled the gift bag up and rested it in front of her, staring at it for a moment or two. It was a large cream coloured paper carrier with The Walburn's logo in tastefully small letters on both sides. She pulled the silk ribbon that secured the handles together and opened it up.

On the top was a big fluffy towel just like the ones in the bathroom. She pulled it out and held it to her nose. It smelled like the hotel and immediately reminded her of John drying off his naked body.

She put it to one side and delved further. A gift wrapped basket of shower creams and gels. Honey and almond, coconut, tea tree, sandalwood, white musk, tropical fruits. Some bars of luxury soap and bottles of almond shampoo and conditioner, and a posh loofah. She grinned with delight.

Next were two half bottles of champagne. No wonder the bag had been so heavy. Then she laughed out loud. A small bowl of assorted pieces of fruit, wrapped in polythene. Apples, bananas, peaches, pears, grapes, strawberries. She would make sure she ate them.

There was more food. Cakes. Cookies. Fancy chocolates. Some miniature bottles of brandy and port._ I will be drinking like a fish at this rate_, she thought happily, unscrewing one of the little bottles and lifting it to her lips.

She suddenly caught a scent of something familiar. She had smelled it in the limo, too. John's aftershave. Either it had rubbed off on her, or...

She reached for her holdall, unzipping it and peering in. She pulled out a folded garment from the top of the pile of her clothes. She shook it out and held it up. It was the creased and crumpled white shirt that John had worn all the while he had been at her apartment. The smell of John hit her in the face like a shockwave. His spicy, citrussy aftershave, her own perfume that she had worn when they went to the park. And John's own smell. The scent of his skin, the essence of John himself. She couldn't describe it. She just held the shirt to her nose and breathed in as deeply as her lungs would allow. She rubbed it all over her face. She sighed and breathed in some more, filling her lungs to capacity.

When had he put in in her bag, the sneaky devil?

####

"Oh my God," Scott was laughing so hard now he was almost crying. "She did _what_ to you in the library?"

"I swear, Scott. She just grabbed a hold of me, pushed me against the bookshelves and kissed my face off."

"John Tracy, you sly fox! The rest of us have to make some sort of effort, but you just stand there and women throw themselves at you. In the goddamned library! Who the hell makes out in the _library_? Well, _you_ do, for one. Man, what am I doing wrong?"

"Not everyone goes for macho men you know," grinned John. "Gotta have something up here besides a hamster in a wheel." he tapped the side of his head knowingly.

"Hey, I read books."

John launched into a passable, albeit extremely exaggerated, imitation of Scott. "Hey, honey, wanna hear all about the operating principles of the jet engine, or should I just flex my muscles for you now?"

"Watch it kid, there's an ejector button right here on the dash."

"Fine by me if you want to bail out."

Scott and John both glanced sideways at each other.

"You know what? You really should have taken that extra week," Scott grinned. "Gotten it all out of your system. Now that your dick's had a taste of the drug."

"You see what I'm talking about, Scott? You're rude, crude and loutish. Who in their right mind would want you?"

"Come on. They go crazy for my forward thrusters."

"Yeah, and more fool them. Anyway, I've found my lady now, Scott. The search is over."

Scott turned his head to look at John fully. "You're serious, aren't you?"

John put his elbow back on the cockpit window, twirled his blond curl absently round his finger. "Yep," he replied. "Deadly serious."

####

The wine finished, Karen lay back on the bed with John's shirt over her face and a miniature bottle of brandy between her fingers, listening to Ella Fitzgerald singing 'Cry Me A River'. She inhaled deeply, over and over again until she felt her head spinning. She pulled it away just enough to get the brandy bottle underneath and took another sip of the burning liquid. Then she covered her face again, letting the brandy fumes and the scent of John go completely to her head.

####

Tracy Island hove into view at last, a small familiar speck on the hazy horizon. Scott opened a secure channel and radioed Base.

"Tracy One to Base, this is Tracy One calling Base. Do you read?"

Moments later, their father's gruff voice came over the airwaves. "Base to Tracy One, reading you loud and clear, Scott. Everything okay?"

"Sure, dad. Got a little excess baggage here, but I'm thinking of flying over the pool and offloading."

"Hello, dad," sighed John. "I've had to put up with this for over two hours."

"I'm sorry to hear that, John," their father chuckled. "But it's good to have you home. I trust you had a nice vacation?"

"I did, dad. It started out good, and then it just got better."

"Fine, fine. You can tell me all about it when you're here. Tin-Tin's monitoring your approach now. I'll leave you in her capable hands, and go tell mother and Kyrano to have some refreshments ready for when you arrive."

"Hey. He seems pretty relaxed," said John after Jeff went off air. "His share values must have gone up."

"I don't know, John. Lately he's been handing more and more responsibilities over to Tin-Tin. I know it's what she's always wanted. I think she and Brains must have had a word with him some time ago. It makes sense though. You know that."

"I sure do. She's a better engineer than I'll ever be."

The radio crackled on again and Tin-Tin's mellow, lilting tones came through, cool and professional. "This is Base to Tracy One. Are you receiving me, Scott?"

Scott nudged John, raised his eyebrows mischievously and nodded at the radio. "I'd sure like to, Tin-Tin," he said suggestively. John snickered beside him.

"Behave yourself, Tracy One, and start your landing approach now."

"Sorry, Tin-Tin. This is Tracy One to Base, beginning landing approach."

####

Karen went into the kitchen and put on a pot of strong coffee. The wine and brandy had made her woozy and she didn't want to be roaring drunk when John called. _If_ John called.

No. _When_ John called. Because he said he would.

####

_Ladybird_ made her approach, soaring down over the sparkling Pacific Ocean towards the rocky piece of land that was Tracy Island. John watched his home looming in front of them, and realised he was happy to see it.

He just wished Karen was here to see it with him.

He imagined what her reaction would be if he told her who he really was. What he and his brothers did, every day of their lives. That they weren't just rich kids living off their father's spoils, as some people, Tim Casey for one, seemed to think. He hated when folk commented that they needed to do more to occupy their time. As though they were still a bunch of teenagers lounging around!

"Listen to this," Scott chuckled, breaking him out of his thoughts yet again. "This'll get Tin-Tin going." He clicked the radio on. "Tracy One to Base. Hey Tin-Tin, honey," he said in his most seductive drawl. "Do you want to guide me in?"

John shook his head. For a thirty year old, Scott could be surprisingly childish. Then again, Tin-Tin baiting _was_ a national pastime on their little island.

"Base to Tracy One," came back the cool delivery. "I thought you were quite able to _do it by yourself_, Scott."

"Well, you asked for _that_ one," said John. "I'm surprised you haven't been reported for sexual harrassment."

Scott laughed, completely unperturbed. "Tracy One to Base. Come on, Tin-Tin, I could do with a hand."

"Don't you ever give up?" said John.

"Base to Tracy One," said Tin-Tin. "No, John. He does not."

Scott laughed. "Tracy One to Base. You love me really. Dont'cha, Tin-Tin?"

"Base to Tracy One. Not as much as you love yourself, Scott Tracy."

"Guess I'll just have to guide myself in, then." Scott muttered with a lopsided grin. He eased the throttle forward and adjusted the rudder and aelerons and brought the jet down onto the runway with a soft bump. Textbook landing. Not that anyone would have expected otherwise.

They taxied slowly through the runway's avenue of fake palm trees and into Thunderbird 2's massive cliff house hangar. On the gantryway above them they could see Gordon and Virgil standing there watching. Gordon waved furiously, John raised one hand in return.

"Look at him, he's like a puppy wagging its tail."

"Hey, he's just excited to see his big brothers again."

The jet came to a complete stop and Scott cut the engine. He breathed out as the plane whined softly and then grew silent. He turned to John and clapped his blond brother on the shoulder. "Well, here we are, Johnny. Home sweet home. And I'm telling you, my ass is killing me from all that flying. As soon as I get in, I'm heading straight for that pool."

Scott heaved the canopy back and climbed out. He motioned for John to pass him the suitcase, taking it from John's hands before John climbed out himself.

"Hey, Johnny!" yelled Gordon, his voice echoing round the cavern. "Howya doin'?"

"Great, Gordon, just great," John called back. Then to Scott he muttered, "in the bad old days, he would have been on Ritalin."

"John Tracy! Wash your mouth out."

"Okay. That was a little harsh," John flashed his brother a wide grin. "But look at the guy. He's bouncing off the walls!"

Scott and John ascended the steps to the top of the gantry as the massive door to the cliff house hangar began drawing upwards. They reached the top and Gordon came forward to envelop John in a bear hug.

"Good to see ya, Johnny."

"You too, Gord."

Virgil approached behind Gordon. He reached out and ruffled John's hair. For some reason John could never fathom, they all enjoyed messing with his hair. They'd been doing it since they were kids, and they were still doing it now.

"Hello, John," Virgil smiled, as understated as ever.

"Virg. Good to see you, fella. Did you get out of bed especially to welcome me home?"

"Oh, no. I've been up for at least three hours."

John chuckled, then he hugged Virgil.

"Something's put our mystery man in a good mood," Virgil said, winking at Scott.

"Something or someone," replied Scott, grinning.

"No secrets in this house, huh," grimaced John, following his brothers down the gantry to the main living quarters door.

"None, whatsoever," said Virgil. "Except dad doesn't know."

"Dad doesn't know _yet_," said Gordon.

"No way could dad not know," said John. "It's his house. He's the boss. Scott knows, and now I guess you guys know. What about Alan and Tin-Tin?"

"No, they don't know," said Scott. "Just us four. And the 'birds. They know. But we can trust them."

"So," said Virgil, slinging his arm affectionately around John's shoulders and smiling his most charming smile. "Who is this lovely young lady of yours?"

####

Karen busied herself with chores. She cleaned the hallway, vacuumed the rug. She mopped the kitchen floor, scrubbed the sink and taps until they gleamed. She opened another miniature bottle of brandy and poured some into her coffee. She arranged the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and ate some strawberries. The taste of strawberries reminded her of kissing John after he'd eaten some. She ate some more.

She opened the kitchen window and listened to the sounds from outside. Someone was playing a radio in a back yard. She could smell someone's laundry hanging out to dry. Some children shouted on their way to the park. A dog barked, a car horn beeped. Normal sounds from people who didn't even know that she or John existed.

How long would it take him to get home and get settled, she thought to herself.

She went back into the bedroom with her brandy laced coffee and lay down on the bed again. She remembered John lying there. She remembered him making love to her with urgency, as though their lives depended on it. She remembered the haste with which they struggled to remove each others' clothes. She held the shirt to her nose again and remembered the feel of his muscles beneath his skin and the way he positioned himself between her spread thighs. She covered her face with his shirt and put her hand between her legs.

####

He needed to call her. His dad wanted to see him. There was food on the table. His brothers wanted him in the pool. Tin-Tin and Grandma were fussing over him. Brains was eager to tell him of new developments in Thunderbird 5's sensor array. He was being pulled and pushed in every direction possible, and he was trying to be on his best behaviour with all of them.

But he needed to call her.

He made an excuse to Brains, told him he had to go to his room for a moment. Brains didn't question him, he must have seen the anxious look in John's eyes. Brains watched the blond Tracy hurry off towards his room before anyone else could stop him, and ask where he was going and didn't he want to eat first.

John keyed in the code to his room and went in, bringing his suitcase with him. He flung it on the bed and pulled out his cell phone. He realised he was actually nervous as he switched it on and located her number and pressed the green button.

The ring tone started up.

####

Karen lay subdued in the aftermath of an orgasm that she had tried hard to imagine John giving her. The scent of his shirt had helped, but it just wasn't the same. If this was what she was going to have to get used to from now on, she'd probably be better off not doing it at all.

It took her a moment to realise her phone was ringing. She scrambled to her knees and rummaged through her holdall, throwing clothes out onto the bed until she found it. Her shaking fingers almost fumbled it as she pressed the green button and held it to her ear, her face bright red and burning from brandy and anticipation.

"Hello?" she croaked.

"Hi," he said.

"Oh, God," she blurted, sinking back onto the bed. "Hi!" Her heart raced, her face flushed hotly.

He laughed. "You sound breathless."

"I couldn't find my phone. I thought it would go off before I got the chance to answer it!"

"I would have called back."

"I didn't know that. I was so scared you'd hang up."

She heard the smile in his voice. "Did you have a good journey home?"

"Oh my God, that car was incredible. And Mr. Fredericks was so nice."

"Watch it. He's married."

"John!" she giggled. "Not like _that_. And oh my God, your shirt. I mean, and the Gift Bag, it was so lovely, there were so many nice things in it, thank you." She realised she was shaking, took a long swallow of brandy laced coffee.

"You're welcome," he grinned. "Don't forget to eat the fruit."

"I won't. I've already eaten some. But oh, John, your shirt! When did you put that into my bag?"

"When you weren't looking. I thought I could sneak some laundry in."

She laughed. "You're not getting it back, mister. It's mine, now. Anyway, how about you, how was your journey? Did they fuss over you?"

"Oh, yeah. I got singled out for special treatment all right. But I was happy just to sit and look out the window and think about you."

"Really? Oh John, that's so sweet. I mean, not sweet, just, you know, nice."

He laughed again. "I just got back, really. I sneaked away to call you before they all start fussing. You'd think I'd been away for a year, not a week."

"That must be nice though, having people to fuss over you."

"Well, yeah. I am lucky, I guess. I really hope one day they'll get the chance to fuss over you, too."

Her heart leapt. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

She pulled his shirt over her face and inhaled deeply. "I'm sniffing your shirt," she told him, high on his words and two miniature bottles of brandy.

"Good thing I didn't give you my underwear," he deadpanned.

"I would have sniffed that, too."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure."

She laughed. "Want me to send you some of mine?"

"As much as I'd love to say yes, all the mail goes through a filter system into business or personal, and I really wouldn't want one of my brothers finding any ah...special packages. Because that did happen once, and the brother in question never heard the end of it."

"Sounds like a zany household."

"Yeah. It's a regular riot. So, ah...whatcha up to right now?"

"Ohh, just...lying on the bed, sniffing your shirt, talking to you."

"On the bed, huh. I'm on my bed, too."

"Mm. I wish we were lying in bed together." She toyed with the neck of her blouse. "Wanna get dirty?"

He chuckled, a quite lascivious sound, especially when directed straight down her ear. "You know what, if you were right here, I wouldn't let you get away with a comment like that. But as it is, I kinda like the idea of just lying here listening to the sound of your voice."

She chuckled back teasingly. "Not going off me already, are you?"

"Are you kidding? I told you, if you were here right now...well, I don't think I'd be held responsible for my actions."

She smiled broadly at the ceiling. "I'll have to buy myself a dildo," she remarked, giggling at the choking noise that came from the other end. "Although I don't think they make 'em _that_ big."

"Want me to email measurements? You could get one tailor made."

"No thanks. I'll just buy a softball bat and use that."

He laughed heartily. "I'll never be able to watch a softball game again. Not that I ever did." He sighed. "They've put on a spread for me in the lounge. It's kind of a kooky family tradition. Whenever one of us comes home from vacation, Grandma and dad go crazy with the welcoming committee. After that, they go back to being all-time grouches. Well, dad does."

"Does your _whole_ family live together?"

Whoops. That caused a silence at the other end. Had he realised he was going too far with the information again? She bit her lip. "Forget I asked that question," she said hastily.

"No, it's okay. Yeah, we kind of do. We're not always here all at the same time." That bit was true- either he or Alan were usually up in Thunderbird 5. "It's an easy living arrangement that works out well for everyone, at least, so far. I'll be truthful with you, okay. My father came into some money...well, okay he earned it, and he bought some property that was big enough for everyone. What with house prices and everything, we all figured it was better financially to do it this way, at least until further notice. And it's working out, we all rub along."

"Well, I actually think that's great." She reached for her coffee, took another big gulp to feel the brandy hit. "John, can I just ask you one thing? Were you coy about telling me that you all lived together in case I thought there was something weird about it?"

She heard what sounded like a sigh of relief. "I guess, yeah. Some people do think it's weird. Dad's got this friend, he thinks we sit around all day leeching off dad's money. We don't, we all have our own stuff that we do. I earn my own money. It does bug me sometimes, and it does make me cautious about admitting it. You know, grown man still lives with dad and brothers. None of us are married. You gotta admit, some people would think that's weird."

"Well, I don't," she said decisively. "I think it's financially sound, like you said, and wonderful that your family is so close that you can do that. If I was your dad, I'd be very proud of all of you."

"Okay. You have no idea how weird _that_ sounds." John laughed. She pictured him running his hand through his hair right at that moment. "But thanks, you know. For being understanding about it."

"So," she ventured onwards. "Your brothers. Are they all as goodlooking as you?"

"Naw," he drawled. "How could they be? Seriously though, yeah they're okay. Scott's fine if you like tall, dark and handsome."

She giggled. "I hate tall, dark and handsome. Not my type at all. I prefer a sunny blond, with a cute smile and a pert behind."

"Ah, Karen. I'm beginning to wish I'd smuggled you home in my suitcase. Oh, shit...someone's coming. I knew it wouldn't be long."

She heard a shout from somewhere.

"That's one of my brothers. They want me out there so they can spoil me rotten. It's a dog's life, huh."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Bummer."

"Listen," he said. "I'll call you when I can, okay? If you don't answer I'll call again or leave a message. But don't sit by the phone or get scared in case you miss it. Once I get back to work it'll be a little more difficult, but I will call. All right? You need to know that."

"Okay, I understand. Thank you, John. I appreciate you telling me that."_ Please don't go yet. Don't hang up..._

She heard the shout again, louder this time. "John, where the heck _are _you? Get _out_ here!"

"I'm coming!" John yelled, perhaps a little too loudly, which made her grin. Brothers. She didn't have any, but she could imagine how annoying they could be. "Okay, baby, I have to go now. I'm sorry. They'll break the door down, otherwise."

"Okay, John. You go. Have a drink for me, okay?" She felt her voice catch, willed herself to stay in control. _God, I wish I was there with you._

"Honey, listen," he said suddenly. "There's something I have to say. Really, I mean, I don't know how this is gonna sound after just two days, but..." he stopped. She held her breath.

"Shit. Karen. I love you."

With that, he hung up, leaving her lying there stunned.

_####_

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

_Guys, tell me if I'm uploading these chapters too fast? I just get over excited. lol xx_

_**Disclaimers**: Tracys not mine (sadly) Ocs mine (yay!)_

_**TV-Verse.** **Rated M for adult themes and occasional cussing.** (For example, see first word below.)_

_####_

SHIT! John grabbed his hair in both hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Shit! Why did you have to go and say that? Oh, John Tracy, you idiot. You big, stupid, idiot.

He threw his phone down and flopped back onto the pillows. What was she going to think of him now? That he was some infatuated teenager, that's what, after all the hard work he'd put in to come over as suave and sophisticated.

And now he'd undone it all by acting like some gauche emotional retard.

"_I love you_."

After two days! And then hanging up before she could say anything in reply!

Idiot. Stupid, stupid, idiot.

The banging on the door was starting to annoy him off now. "I said I was coming!" he yelled.

The banging immediately ceased. Then he heard Gordon, sounding unsure of himself. "Uh, okay, John. I only wanted to know if..."

"Oh my God, Gordon, I said I was coming, please. Just give me one moment, huh? _Uno momento, por favor_."

"Whatever, _hombre_," Gordon muttered from the other side of the door. "Don't lay a frickin' _huevo_."

John listened to the sounds of his brother stalking off. Damn, now I've upset the kid, and he was in such a good mood earlier. He went to the door, opened it hurriedly and ran after Gordon, catching him up just before he got to the lounge.

"Gord, I'm sorry. I, well, I phoned Karen. I'd just ended the call, and I was feeling a little lousy, that's all. Sorry I yelled."

Gordon's pale brown eyes softened. "Aw, I shoulda known. I'm sorry, man. I interrupted at the wrong time, as usual. My fault." He put his hand out and rubbed John's upper arm. "You okay?"

John gave yet another hefty sigh. "Yeah. It's weird though. I feel like I've known her forever, and I really wasn't ready to leave her just yet. I feel cut loose. You know the feeling?"

Gordon snorted. "Do I ever. It sucks. You want to be with her but you can't. And you still gotta function normally with everybody else. I feel for you, buddy."

"No point dwelling though, right?" John said with a wry grin. "I already feel like an idiot." _And_ _how_. He gave Gordon's thick mop of auburn hair a good ruffling. "Come on, let's go see what Grandma's cooked up this time." He slung his arm around Gordon's shoulders and went with his younger brother into the lounge to join his family, hoping they would make this squirmy feeling of embarrassment go away.

####

Karen lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Did John just say what she thought he'd said? He couldn't possibly have. Could he?

But he did. He said 'I love you'. He definitely did.

She clenched her fists around his shirt. Okay, you _could_ love someone after two days- or rather, you could certainly become infatuated with them. You could spend every waking minute of every hour of every day thinking about them. But _love_ them?

She thought back to the first moment she set eyes on him in the library. She dropped her books, cursed out loud. She heard a gentle coughing, someone clearing their throat. She looked up to find a man standing at the end of the stacks. A tall blond man with the finest features she'd ever seen, looking curiously back at her, his eyes blue and intense under arched and slightly furrowed brows.

If anyone were to ever ask her when was the moment she realised she'd fallen in love with John, that would have to be it. The first time that she saw him.

So you _could_ love someone after just two days.

You could love them after just two minutes.

####

John pushed food into his mouth while his father talked. He was listening, yet not really listening, answering yet slightly detached from his words. He chewed a slice of cake, not really knowing whether it was vanilla sponge or chocolate. He was vaguely distracted by the sounds of laughter coming from the pool.

Jeff was asking about his vacation. He replied that he'd toured the museums and art galleries and done some clothes shopping. And how was the hotel? Fine. Comfortable? Sleep well? Oh yes. Slept very well, dad. Very well indeed.

He finished his cake and drifted out onto the balcony, his father happy to let him wander off. That's John, he could hear Jeff thinking. With you one minute, gone the next.

He stood at the railings and looked down. Scott was in the water, splashing about like a seal and showing off to Tin-Tin who was running around the edge of the pool in a tiny red bikini. His first thought was, don't run where it's wet, Tin-Tin, you'll slip and crack your head.

His second thought was, when did Tin-Tin start looking like _that_? He felt a stirring in his groin and looked away quickly. For God's sake man, it's Tin-Tin, he told himself firmly. But _look _at her, said his groin, isn't that the smallest bikini you ever saw? Look how it hugs her ass! Look at those...

Shut up, he told himself. Don't even go there. Don't even think it. But Scott was right, his 'dick' had had a taste of the drug, and now it seemed even Tin-Tin was setting him off.

Oh, he knew in his head it was a purely physiological response to pleasing visual stimuli, and that tiny red bikini was certainly easy on the eye.

But Jesus, it was Tin-Tin. And now the sight of Tin-Tin's slender, supple body was bringing thoughts of Karen rushing through the barriers he was trying to set up in his mind. Barriers that would stop this precise sort of thing from happening in public.

Karen, naked. Karen with her legs spread before him, her hair in a tangled mess all over her face, her eyes beckoning. Karen's face on the pillow looking rapturously up at him as he...

"John...John! Hey, _John_!"

Virgil was standing before him, waving a hand up and down in front of his face.

"Uh...Virgil." He blinked. "Sorry. I was just..."

"I know, my man, you were off on another planet. And I think you're gonna be needing a cold shower pretty soon, too. Ah, if you know what I'm saying." Virgil smirked, his eyes flickering briefly towards John's groin area. John followed his brother's gaze and saw that he had an erection, plain as day, straining at the fabric of his trousers. God, was he glad Grandma was out of eyeshot!

"Shit," he muttered. "Jeez, Virg, thanks for the warning. I'm gonna have to go and do something about this." With that, he clapped Virgil on the shoulder and loped off in the general direction of the bedrooms, leaving Virgil laughing throatily behind.

He couldn't call her again. What would he say? _Hi honey, I love you. Do you mind if I masturbate_?He'd have to deal with this one himself. He collapsed on the bed and unzipped his flies, pulling it out of his underwear. He closed his eyes and began stroking gently up and down its hard length, squeezing lightly with his thumb and first two fingers. He pictured her lying with him, her mouth teasing the head. He recalled the damp heat of her mouth engulfing him, taking him deep into the back of her throat. He stroked faster, easing into a steady rhythm borne from years of practise. He breathed in, held it, breathed out. His stomach muscles tensed and relaxed. He felt the heat rise up his neck, his forehead become damp with sweat. His hand worked tirelessly, up and down, up and down. He pulled his shirt up to his chest.

When he came it was explosive. It took a while for him to get his breath back, his chest rising and falling, his face and neck hot and flushed. He lay there breathing hard and staring vacantly at a potted plant that appeared to be dying on top of his chest of drawers.

I'll need to water that soon, he thought.

####

Scott came up from the pool, half dressed and towelling his wet hair. "Hey! Where's John got to now?" he asked Virgil and Gordon, after casting his eyes around the lounge and finding their middle brother missing once again.

Virgil and Gordon were grinning merrily together like two conspirators.

"He, ah...had to leave as a matter of urgency," chuckled Virgil.

"Yeah. He had to er...take himself in hand," said Gordon, trying to keep a straight face.

Scott frowned at them until realisation dawned. "Holy crap, _already_?"

Their grandmother spotted them huddled in a laughing trio. "Scott! There you are! Come on over here and have some of my strawberry cheesecake!"

Scott hid his head under his towel, his blue eyes creased with mirth. "Coming, Grandma," he spluttered. "And so is John, by the sounds of things!"

That cracked Gordon up, even though the phrase was so obviously ripe for innuendo. It was the look of utter glee on Scott's face that tipped him over the edge into hysterics.

When John returned from his room looking dishevelled and slightly flushed, it just set the brothers off even more. He glared at them in dismay, fixing his eyes on Virgil especially, who shrugged helplessly and rather apologetically while Gordon was almost bent double.

"Knock it off," he growled.

Gordon just laughed even harder.

Jeff had noticed now. "What's the joke, boys?" he asked curiously.

"Aw, nothing dad, just something Virgil said." Gordon was a master at passing the buck.

"I was just reminding him of the time Alan...er..." Virgil started, trying to think fast on his feet. Where had Scott gotten to? He would have thought of something!

"The time Alan dumped Virgil and Scott into the basement, and deservedly so," said John, lifting his chin and staring at Virgil until he was certain Virgil had received the message loud and clear. "It's just a shame Gordon wasn't with them, too."

"Aw, John," Gordon said with a pout, his light brown eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"Aw, John, nothing." John stalked off towards the food laden table and grabbed himself a cold beer. He went back onto the balcony and sat down on a sun lounger, realising too late that Tin-Tin was out there in her bikini.

_Oh well, nothing left in me now. I should be safe_.

"We thought you might come for a swim, John," the pretty Eurasian girl said. "Scott wanted to give you a dunking."

"Scott tormented me non-stop all the way home, you think I'm gonna let him dunk me, too?" John said wryly. He took a swallow of beer straight from the bottle.

"Yes, he can be a bit much," Tin-Tin agreed. "Especially when Alan's away. He goes a bit mental."

John laughed, nearly choking on his beer. 'Mental' wasn't exactly a word he'd use to describe Scott, but he thought he knew what Tin-Tin was getting at.

"Well, you looked like you were enjoying yourself, anyway," he teased. "Or were you just humouring him?"

Tin-Tin smiled shyly. "A bit of both," she said enigmatically.

"I see." John flashed his eyes at her as he tipped the bottle up for another gulp of beer.

Scott came back out onto the balcony with a beer for himself and a coke for Tin-Tin. He sat himself down in a chair and put his feet up on the railings. "I hate my job," he declared. "I want to get moving, but that'd mean some disaster would have to happen."

"You can take over my tour of duty tomorrow, if you like," John offered. "No? Thought not."

"Hey, I'll do a stint up there if dad says you can fly Thunderbird One and handle Mobile Control."

"Think I'm not up to it?" John said.

Tin-Tin looked at John. He was getting that defiant tone to his voice. She tipped an eyebrow at him.

"John...chill out, buddy. You just got home." Scott lifted his beer bottle and drained a quarter of its contents in one go. "_Relax_."

"I am relaxed." No. he was anything but. He was fidgety and restless. His heart was aching.

Scott sat up, put his half empty bottle down with a clunk. "Come with me," he said to John.

"What? Where?"

Scott got to his feet. "Just come with me." His eyes said _don't argue_.

John got up wordlessly. Tin-Tin watched the two of them descend the stone steps to the pool area and walk around the side of the house.

Scott took John by the shoulders once they were out of view. "Talk to me," he said. "Don't start getting antsy. You know what you're like."

John turned his head away. "Scott, don't."

"John. I mean it. You're itching for a confrontation already. I can tell. I can always tell. Talk to me. It's about her, and I know it. Just. For God's sake, talk. Let it out. Come on, sit down."

Scott steered John to a low wall and pushed him down onto it. Then he sat next to him, close enough to touch. He fixed John with a look that said I'm not going away until you talk to me. John sighed heavily for the thousandth time that day.

"Okay. If you need to know. I called her, and I told her I loved her. And then I hung up. And now I feel like a piece of crap."

Scott whistled long and low. "That's quite an admission. I mean, what you said to her. Wow."

"I know. I can't _do_ this, Scott. I just want to be with her."

Scott put his hand on John's arm. "This is all new to you, John. Of course it's going to hurt at first. You'll get through this first stage, believe me. You will."

"It's not a stage, Scott. It's real. I do love her. I've never felt this way about _anyone_ before. I feel like I've known her forever." His eyes looked into Scott's, pleading for Scott to understand.

"Then she's not going to go away. Not if she's meant for you. And gosh, it's not like you can't call her. It's the 21st century. You can rig up a secure channel. You can talk to her every night if you want. You can have a video link to her. Dad doesn't need to know until you're ready to tell him."

"I guess." John dropped his gaze to the floor. He looked quite dejected.

"Hey. Want me to tell you about the time I got my heart broken so bad I thought I'd never recover?" Scott said, nudging John out of his reverie.

"Not if it's got some kind of punchline that goes 'I was eight years old and she sat next to me in class'. Because then I_ will_ hit you."

"Would I. Okay, yeah, I would. But no, this was a different time. I was seventeen, old enough to know what it was all about. I came home the night she dumped me and drank an entire bottle of dad's whisky, then I puked it up all over my bedroom floor at about 3am. That girl nearly killed me."

"The whisky did that," John snorted.

"No, John._ She_ did. Because I didn't have the guts to tell her I loved her. Okay, I was only seventeen, but it's that same feeling of losing control. Only I fought it. And a part of me still regrets fighting it to this day. To me, romantic love was a sign of weakness. I know better now, of course, but at the time I thought love was for cissies and girls." Scott picked at his thumbnail. "I didn't tell anyone what had happened. Dad wondered about his missing bottle of whisky but I cleaned up myself and my room before anyone else woke up. You wouldn't even remember anything odd about that day. But I was like jello inside. I held it together, but it was unbelievably hard. And the only reason I'm saying all this, John, is because _not_ telling someone you love them when you do, is ten times worse than telling them you do love them a little sooner than you intended."

John stared at his eldest brother. "Jesus, Scott. What can I say?"

"Nothing. Forget what happened to me. I got through it. But it was a lesson learned. I'm just glad you're more in tune with your heart than I am." Scott smiled at his brother. "You're doing okay, John. Just don't pick fights, all right? You know you'll only come off worse."

"Hey! Get outta here." John pushed Scott. Scott grabbed his arms and they tussled playfully for a bit. Then Scott pulled at the neck of John's shirt.

"Lemme see that thing." He peered closely at the bruise on John's shoulder. "Man, that is one impressive love bite. You can see teeth marks and everything!" he chuckled manfully. "You give her any?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Bet you did. Bet you gave her a big juicy one, right on her ass."

"No, I didn't!"

They wrestled some more. Scott grabbed John in a headlock and messed his blond hair up until it resembled a haystack after a tornado. "John 'Love Bite' Tracy, that's what I'm calling you from now on. John 'Love Bite' Tracy."

John groaned. "Scott...get a _grip_, will ya?"

But Scott was off, dragging his brother into a half nelson and wrestling him onto the floor. If he wasn't covered in bruises already, he would be by the time he got back to Thunderbird 5 tomorrow.

####

At dinner that night, his subdued mood returned. Those that knew of Karen understood why, but everyone else noticed he was quiet and tried to bring him out of himself. Tin-Tin of course, seemed happy that Alan was coming home. Grandma thought he might be coming down with a bug and promised to send him on his way with lots of vitamin C. Brains thought another discussion on the sensor arrays might cheer him up. Jeff told him that he'd be fine once he'd gotten himself settled into his normal routine.

_But I don't want to be settled into my normal routine_, he railed inwardly. _I want to be making mad, passionate love_ _with my girl, and to hell with everything else!_

Scott looked up, his mouth full of food, and caught John's eye. He gave John a look that said _man_ _up. _John smiled weakly back. He poked at his mashed potato, making swirls on it with the tines of his fork. Scott flashed him another look. _Don't be a wuss in front of the old man. Don't let me down._

John flashed a look back. _You're right. I'm overdoing it. I'll stop_. He took a deep breath and dug into his food. Before long he'd joined in with the general conversation, and soon after that he'd managed to quell his latest thoughts of Karen so that they no longer screamed to be centre of attention.

Tomorrow was another day. International Rescue needed him to be alert and in control. He owed it to everyone whose lives were endangered by tragedy. If anything, his thoughts of love should be strengthening, not weakening him. What was he, man or mouse?

He was man. He was man, and he was Tracy. Which was like, man plus.

He grinned to himself. Man plus. Man times ten. Man to the power of one hundred! Soon he was trying hard to stifle his own stupid laughter. He caught Scott's eye again and winked. Scott raised his wine glass in a silent toast. John did the same.

####

Later that night John started packing his bag for yet another month away from home. Tin-Tin came to his room with an armload of clothes he hadn't thought about taking, seeing as he seemed to spend most of his time wearing his IR uniform because it was the professional thing to do, day or night. But she seemed to want to keep him company anyway, so he let her in.

"It's a shame we're only seeing you for a day," she mused, perching on the end of the bed as he pushed rolled up T-Shirts, socks and underwear into every available corner.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, not really paying attention. He realised he hadn't brought anything of Karen's back with him to remind him of her while he was away.

"I'll water your plant for you," she offered, indicating the shrivelling specimen on the chest of drawers.

"Sure. That'd be great, Tin-Tin. Thanks." he raked his hand through his hair, looking around for something. Ah, that book. That would do.

"It's always nice to see you," Tin-Tin attempted once again to engage him in conversation. "We all miss you when you're not here."

_Well, so you should, you're my goddamned family, after all._

"Uh-huh. Say, Tin-Tin, pass me that sweater over there, would you?"

She picked up the sweater in question from the other side of the bed and handed it over obediently. He rolled it up quite carelessly and shoved it down into his bag.

"What's wrong, John?" she asked at last. "You're so distant."

He was about to retort sharply, tell her to butt out or something, but one look at her big liquid eyes and her concerned expression and he relented immediately. This was his last night of relative freedom, for Pete's sake. He relaxed his shoulders, felt the weight lift, realign itself and settle somehow differently.

"Tin-Tin. I'll tell you what. You go and mix us up a couple of drinks, just you and me, and I'll tell you everything."

Her eyes lit up. "Gossip?" she giggled.

He smiled crookedly, winked at her. "Gossip," he promised.

####

An hour later, John had told Tin-Tin everything. She sat on the end of the bed clutching her second drink, smiling from ear to ear. Of course, she thought it was _wonderful_ that he'd found someone. She had always thought he deserved to find happiness. Oh, it was all right for the likes of Scott and Virgil, but John was different, John was deep and thoughtful. John only needed to find the right lady and he'd settle down for life. She had always known this.

John listened a little sceptically but let her talk on, amused by her sudden interest in his personal life. He hadn't ever thought she was bothered by him at all. He was either there or he wasn't. That's how he personally felt about situations. They either affected him or they didn't. People were part of his life or they weren't. He had no interest in prying into anyone else's business and it perturbed him slightly when anyone tried to pry into his. But Tin-Tin wasn't prying, she was just being Tin-Tin. Romantic to the core. In love with fairy tale endings. For all that she was a qualified engineer and cleverer in some respects than he or any of his brothers were, she was still a softy at heart.

Just like him, he supposed. Then swallowed a dry laugh at the thought of what Scott would have to say about that if he knew.

"Don't forget, Tin-Tin, only you, Virgil, Scott and Gordon know about this, okay? I don't want dad finding out just yet. Not until I've found a way to break it to him gently. I'd like to have some time to talk to her some more, find out just exactly what the feelings are on both sides. I know how_ I_ feel, but I didn't give her the chance to let her have her say. If dad thinks I'm getting serious about a girl already, he might start asking a whole bunch of questions that I don't have answers for yet." He swallowed some more of his drink, brandy and coke.

"Of course, John, I completely understand," Tin-Tin nodded. "It's such a shame about the no outsiders rule, but I suppose he's only thinking about the safety of International Rescue. Look at all the trouble we went through when Colonel Casey was here." She pulled a face, remembering how Jeff had asked her to act as a decoy to get Casey out of the way while the Thunderbirds took off.

"Yeah, and he never did find your legendary Water Mamba," John grinned.

"He never will either. I'm not doing that sort of thing ever again. I shall tell your father, too."

"Good for you." John hefted his bag over to the door and put it down ready for the next day. "Well, guess that's me all packed and done. Can't say I'm looking forward to it this time, but the sooner I get up there, the sooner I'll be back. And I'll have to make some kind of arrangements to see Karen soon, or I'll go crazy."

"Oh, but John, I'm quite sure from what you've told me about her, that your father will warm to her instantly. I can't see how she could ever pose any kind of threat to our organization."

"No, she's no threat at all," agreed John. "But if she found out, then she'd have to be sworn to secrecy, and then she'd have to never, ever mention it to anyone, not even in passing. Not even a whiff of a hint. And that's not always easy to do."

"Well, perhaps she could move here and be with you full time."

John shook his head. "What would she do for the months that I was away? No job, no social life, she'd be bored out of her mind."

"She'd have me, and the boys."

"Sure, but that's still not the life she's used to. She has her friends and her job. She won't want to give all that up. Besides, it really is _way_ too soon for all that."

"I suppose so. Oh well, John, things have a way of working out if they're meant to be, and this sounds like it's meant to be." She put down her drink, got up from the bed and went over to him. She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He was slightly startled by her sudden display of affection, but he hugged her back, feeling the softness of female warmth once again. Of course she was completely different to Karen, but she was pliant in his arms and she smelled nice, like flowers of some kind. He held on to her for perhaps a fraction longer than he ought to have, but when she extricated herself from his embrace he let her go and saw that she was smiling.

"Well, I must say, John, that was a lovely hug."

John smiled back. "I've had practise lately."

She blushed. "I dare say you have." Then she flashed him a surprisingly naughty grin. "Welcome to the club."

####

That night John went to bed and dreamed. He dreamed he was walking with Karen through a forest of trees. Spots of sunlight danced before them on the ground. Leaves rustled underfoot. Insects hummed by. They came out of the forest into a huge meadow where there was a small stream and lots of wildflowers. They followed the path, enjoying the sunshine.

Then suddenly they were making love. There was no preliminary scene. They were in the grass and she was beneath him, laughing up at him as he moved on top of her. He wondered why she was laughing.

The scene shifted again, and they were running, hand in hand, through long grass. She started to fall behind. He tightened his grip but her fingers slipped through his. He stopped half way across the meadow and looked back, but she was gone, and he was on his own.

####

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10

_Greetings everyone! __It's a lovely sunny Sunday morning in November here in Liverpool. What better time to upload another chapter? __(Spev, this one's for you. you did well to get through that week! xx)_

_Thanks to everyone for your brilliant reviews, which are as much fun to read as this story is to write. Please, don't be shy, let me know what you think, I'm indebted to you all for reading in the first place :-)_

_**Disclaimers: Tracys not mine, OCs are mine. Based on the TV series. **_

_Gerry A, John had **so** much potential, **why** did you leave him stuck up in TB5 all the time! O_O_

_**Rated M for adult themes and a bit of swearing (sometimes).**_

_####_

The next morning, John stood in the shower contemplating his dream. His logical mind went through the details. Coming out of a wooded area into an open meadow. Needing to be open with her? The fact that she laughed while they were making love. Feelings of inadequacy? Worried about his performance? He smiled as the water drenched his hair. _She hadn't complained_. Running with her? That was easy. They were moving too fast. Then losing his hold on her...that was pretty self-explanatory too.

He was afraid things were moving too fast and that he'd mess up and lose her. Simple. Why the subconscious brain had to come up with such acid trip imagery, he had no idea. Maybe when you dropped acid you switched on the dream part of your brain and it began operating while you were still awake. That would make sense.

He liked it when his mind wandered aimlessly from topic to topic. He found it relaxed him. He lathered soap over his chest, scrubbed his armpits and stomach, reached around to do his back. He shampooed his hair, got suds in his eyes, scrabbled for the towel he always kept handy.

He didn't normally sing in the shower. Virgil had once been heard (loudly and quite beautifully) singing That's Amore and for days after, everyone began belting out That's Amore whenever Virgil appeared. Scott and Gordon had quite amazingly stayed in perfect harmony right to the end of the song, leaving John to wonder if they'd actually held rehearsals. However, despite the possibility of being teased for the rest of his life, today he felt like letting rip. He picked We Are The Champions and started shouting the chorus. The sound of his loud voice bounced off the walls and echoed around the bathroom. Let them hear!

He got out of the shower and dried off, slinging the towel around his neck. He'd be in his uniform in a few hours, but for now he picked a checked shirt and his favourite jeans, a classic pair of 20th Century faded 501s that he'd found in a retro store in San Francisco. He'd paid heftily for them, but the fit was superb and he preferred the button flies to a zipper.

He checked his reflection in the mirror. He didn't give himself the once over that often. As long as he was clean and well dressed with neat hair he imagined he looked fairly presentable, nothing outstanding. But today he seemed to look different somehow. He stood straighter. He looked faintly proud of himself. He looked like a man who wanted to get out there and grab life by the horns.

He chuckled. He pulled himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. "Take that, Scott," he grinned. "I'm getting' it, and _you_ ain't."

He combed his hair, made sure the parting was straight, and went to have breakfast, whistling all the way to the kitchen.

####

Karen stirred in her sleep and woke up. It was still the middle of the night and she had work in the morning. Her temples ached, her eyes stung. She had stayed up late watching some crappy chick flick that only made her cry even though it was meant to be a comedy. And not even a particularly original one. Guy meets girl, guy loses girl, guy wins girl back. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But she had been in torrents of tears by the end, picturing that cheesy celluloid couple as herself and John, battling against the odds to keep their fledgling relationship alive.

She was twenty four years old. She had been in two long-term relationships in her whole life. Marcus, when she was eighteen, and Alex when she was twenty two. She'd had a few on-off boyfriends and had been madly in lust with a man called Daniel who worked at her previous job, even though he paid her scant attention and never once called her by her first name. Apart from that she had always been single and self-sufficient. She had never really gotten in over her head until now. She had always retained a modicum of control over her feelings, even with Marcus who had been a real goodlooking devil, with rusty brown hair and sharp, miss-nothing green eyes.

But John had swept aside all of her defences in one go. He had made her feel open and exposed, as though her organs were all on the outside, glistening pink and wet like naked mole rats pulled scared and shivering out of the ground. Even her mind and spirit felt revealed to the elements, all her beliefs and her entire sense of self hurled into a pit of doubt. She felt phony, fake, a pretender, someone other than who she had always thought she was.

Look at me. I'm a modern woman. A single bachelorette. I'm hip, I'm cool, I drink wine and go out with my girlfriends. I can stand on my own two feet. I don't need a man. I'm livin' the dream.

A man, maybe not. But love? Hell yes. Who didn't need love?

That's what John represented to her. Love in its purest form. It just happened to be shaped like a beautiful man who had appeared one day out of nowhere, like destiny.

She buried her face in his shirt, which was resting on the pillow beside her. It still smelled strongly of John. She curled up under the blankets and willed herself to go back to sleep.

####

Tin-Tin welcomed John into the kitchen with a big glass of ice cold orange juice. He accepted it gratefully, taking a large gulp.

"All set?" she smiled.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

"Last night was fun," she said, picking up the coffee pot and heading to the breakfast table with him. "It's been a while since we've all been together in the lounge at the same time after dinner. Virgil's impromptu 'concert' was wonderful."

"It sure was," John agreed. "I've got some good memories to take with me now. Virgil getting heckled by Gordon, Scott overdoing it on the scotch. I wish I'd filmed it."

Most of the others were already seated at the table. Virgil was still missing. Gordon was doing something outside, most probably checking on his scuba tanks. John took a seat at his father's right hand side, glanced at Scott who looked tired.

"Didn't think you'd be up yet," John grinned.

"Been up since six," Scott muttered. He sounded a little croaky, possibly because he had sneaked two cigarettes with his third or fourth scotch, even though he was meant to have given up. Finally. Permanently, this time. Or so he kept insisting.

"Now's the time to start taking care of yourself, Scott," John began lecturing. "Once you hit your thirties it's a downhill slide. You can't afford to let yourself go." He reached for the toast, spread one slice liberally with unsalted butter. "That's a fact. You're risking exposure to problems like stress and infertility if you carry on smoking. Cold turkey- it's the only way." He bit into his toast, spilling crumbs down his front which he brushed off immediately with his fingers. "Oh," he carried on, his mouth crammed with toast, lifting his chin and waving his hand at Scott's plate of pancakes and maple syrup, "you want to watch all that saturated fat and sugar, too. You don't want to store up a whole load of heart problems for later."

"John," uttered Scott, picking up his coffee mug, "thanks for all the good advice and everything, but if you don't shut up I _will _brain you."

"Boys," said Jeff, gently.

Gordon appeared and threw himself into a chair. Five minutes later Virgil sloped into the room, yawning widely and scratching his neck.

"Ah, the missing link. At least he's dressed," Scott observed out of the side of his mouth, loud enough for Virgil to flip him off without even looking round.

John piled eggs and bacon onto his plate. "So, Scott, think you'll be okay for transportation to the satellite, or should I go with Brains?"

"I'm fine, John. I don't know why you think there's a problem."

"Because you look like sh..." John caught himself, seeing Jeff's slightly stern demeanour. "You look rough, that's all I'm saying. Like, _really_ rough."

"Guess we can't all have cute peachy fuzz faces like you do, Little Johnny." Scott muttered. He really wasn't in the best of moods. He picked up the maple syrup jug. He deliberately poured a further stream of syrup all over and around his pancakes,watching John the whole time. Then he began eating his pancakes in a slow, purposeful manner, scooping up puddles of sticky syrup with a spoon.

John grinned, tucking into his food. Funnily enough, in direct contrast to his grumpy eldest brother, he _was_ in a good mood. His sombre thoughts of the night before had been replaced with a desire to get going, to make a start on the day. If Karen was to think well of him, he had to show that he was strong and capable. That he had good genes. That he meant business. That he wasn't a guy who gave up at the first hurdle.

Virgil began munching noisily thought a bowl of cereal, dripping milk down his chin. He still looked half asleep. Gordon shovelled eggs into his cavernous mouth, talking at the same time about pressure gauges and oxygen analysers with Brains, who had turned up sometime in the last ten minutes and inserted himself at the other end of the table with a minimum of fuss. Tin-Tin was eating a bowl of fruit and nuts with natural yogurt poured thickly on top. The smell of coffee and bacon permeated the air. It was another sunny morning in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

####

After he'd eaten, and eaten heartily, John took his coffee out onto the balcony. There was a warm, humid breeze, and he unfastened another button of his shirt. He had an hour to go before they left. Time for Scott to shower and shave and get his head together. It was unusual for Scott to look so bad after only a few scotches, he thought, but there were times when Scott's drained out batteries needed a full recharge. Scott pushed himself every day. He woke early, and got up immediately. He went running religiously every morning. He worked with their father on Tracy Industries projects, he supervised the distribution of aircraft parts and helped with stock inventories throughout his father's entire business empire. He involved himself fully in the maintenance of Thunderbird One, studied schematics and systems reports daily. He swam hundreds of lengths in the pool every afternoon unless they were out on an assignment, and each assignment saw him return hyped up, bruised, and restless. He could spend hours going over the details of all the decisions he had made during any particular rescue, and whether they had been the right ones. He was always on alert, always busy, always watching over his brothers. The times that he did sit and rest with a drink or some television programme that caught his interest were becoming fewer and more far between. Scott was quietly easing himself into a position that would make his transition into full Commander of International Rescue as seamless as possible when that day eventually arrived.

John had decided years ago that his own involvement in Tracy Industries should progress further and further until he, too held some sort of senior position in decision making. He thought he would be invaluable in research, computer software design and science projects, not to mention the financial aspects of the business. With Brains as his equal partner and colleague, and hopefully Tin-Tin on board if she was still an engineer and not pregnant with Alan's eighteenth child, he knew the Tracy business empire would one day go universal. Meanwhile, in his down time he would continue to study the night sky and all its wonders, and write his beloved books.

There could even come a time when International Rescue's enemies had been defeated. They could 'come out' as Tracy Industry's biggest and best achievement and they'd no longer have to hide themselves away and not be able to have any semblance of a life outside of the one they shared with each other.

Forward planning, that was the thing. He'd had it all worked out.

Until now.

Now he had to add Karen to the equation. Because he sure wasn't going to leave her out of his future now that he'd fallen so hard. He'd gone to bed thinking about her, dreamed about her, and woken up thinking about her.

He even imagined them both being born. He in the maternity ward of Kansas General Hospital on what he'd been told was a fresh and sunny late October morning, she somewhere in Australia. Or possibly New Zealand, or even Tasmania for all he actually knew about her. A year apart from each other and blissfully unaware of each other's existence. What was she like as a little girl? Did she play with dolls or was she a tomboy? He guessed tomboy. Not many girls wanted to be construction workers when they grew up, although he imagined she'd look pretty damn hot in just a hard hat, workman's toolbelt and boots. He grinned to himself. _Hold that thought for later._

_Was _there such a thing as destiny? If you felt like you'd known someone all your life, what did it mean? How _could_ you feel such familiarity with someone you'd only just met? There hadn't been any awkwardness. He'd felt comfortable enough to tell her he hadn't had sex in months. She hadn't seemed at all bothered. She'd admitted pretty much the same thing. Getting naked with her had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. No self-consciousness, not even from her. She appeared happy with her body. She wasn't pushy, or aggressive, or demanding, or vain.

She just _was._

Tin-Tin came out onto the balcony.

"I'm going for a walk along the beach. Would you care to join me?" she asked John.

He shrugged. Last hour before he was back in the depths of Space. "Sure. Why not?"

He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug on a table. He followed Tin-Tin down the steps and around the pool perimeter onto the path to another flight of steps that led to the beach. He looked up at the swaying fronds of palm and coconut trees and at the small fluffy clouds above in the pale blue sky. A large bird soared overhead, one of the frigates that had made its home in the cliffs on the other side of the island. It was headed out to sea for a spot of fishing.

They removed their shoes and started walking across the sand. It was still cool under the shade of the trees, but warmed up as soon as they moved into the sun. The sea air smelled fresh and tangy with salt.

They walked along the shoreline, where the sand was wet and much firmer. Tin-Tin kicked it with her toes, flicking it into the air as she walked. John stopped to roll his jeans up a couple of times then caught up with her again.

"I suppose there's no point saying 'penny for your thoughts'?" Tin-Tin smiled.

"Nope," he replied.

"I think I can guess, anyway."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?"

"That look on your face. You're a million miles away."

He chuckled. "I'm always a million miles away, according to some folk."

"Not like this, though. You're in love."

He fell silent, letting her words find a place in his brain. Finally he spoke. "You wouldn't have known that if I hadn't told you though. Right?"

"Possibly not. But I would have come to the conclusion that something was troubling you. You were in a strange mood yesterday. I pretend not to notice these things sometimes, purely because you men don't like fussing. But you were very detached. More so than usual. Sometimes you're like a satellite yourself, John. Orbiting around this family on your own steady course."

He laughed. "At least it's a steady course. The gravitational pull of this family wouldn't allow for anything else."

"No," Tin-Tin agreed. "No wobbling."

"I like to maintain a _little_ distance," he said, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets. "I don't think I could be down here full-time with Gordon and Scott, as much as I think they're great guys."

"As much as you_ love_ them, you mean," Tin-Tin gave him a mischievous look.

John put his hand up and ruffled her thick, jet black hair. "You know what, honey? One day I'm going to discover a pink, fluffy planet covered in flowers and beautiful butterflies, where everyone goes around falling in love with each other all day long. And you know what I'll call it? I'll call it Planet Tin-Tin."

She bent down and picked up a loose handful of sand. He backed away with his arms out.

"Don't you dare!" he warned.

She chased him down the beach, throwing handfuls of sand after him. He yelled at her to stop it. She laughed some more until he suddenly stopped and turned back on her. She shrieked and started running back the way she'd come, but he was much faster and soon he'd caught her with both arms. He dragged her laughing and protesting to the shoreline.

"You're going in," he muttered, struggling with her as she squirmed.

"No! John, don't!"

He wrestled her to the water's edge where she began kicking up sprays of water, intending to get him as wet as she could. Too late, he realised she had grabbed handfuls of his shirt and was trying to hook her leg around his to unbalance him. He tried to regain his feet quickly, but in the next moment he was falling forward with a shout, still holding on to her. They both hit the water with a huge splash, and it was shallow enough to knock the breath out of both of them. The waves broke over their heads, soaking them completely.

They lay in the surf while the waves kept coming, spluttering and laughing. Tin-Tin was pushed forward by a wave, her hair covering her face. John was dragged backwards along the sandy bottom, small stones finding their way deep into his underwear.

"Crazy woman," he said, pushing the wet hair back from his forehead. He staggered to his feet, waded out of the sea with the waves trying to pull him back. Tin-Tin followed, her hair matted to her face and neck, her sundress clinging to her body. John averted his eyes, dealing with his own soaking garments. He unfastened his shirt buttons and peeled his shirt off. His jeans were saturated and hung heavy on his hips. He looked up to find Tin-Tin trying as hard not to look at him as he was trying not to look at her. He shook his head, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

Karen had woken him up to the fact that he actually had a pretty good body. _His_ main priority was keeping it fit for the assignments of International Rescue, but she had lavished such care and attention on it that he realised the muscles under his skin weren't just for moving him around, they were actually for enticing women, too. He wondered what thoughts were going through Tin-Tin's mind as she accompanied him back up the beach. He hoped they were suitably salacious. He knew his wet jeans were riding low.

"So much for our nice walk," he said.

"You need to get rid of some of that excess energy, John Tracy," Tin-Tin retorted, deliberately loading her words with ambiguity.

"I'll have to hit the treadmill first thing when I get to the satellite," he agreed. "Work up a good sweat." He deliberately left his words ambiguous too.

They walked back across the lawn barefoot and holding their shoes. Tin-Tin's hair was full of sand. She was slightly ahead of him, so he took the brief opportunity to look her up and down. She had really matured into a fine young woman, no trace left of the skinny girl she used to be. She had a slender back and a _really_ nice ass. Nice and curvy and...

He blinked furiously, shook his head. Stop it, man. For God's Sake! He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Stop thinking about Tin-Tin that way. Sure, she's got a nice butt. That doesn't mean you have a license to imagine so freely about her. What's _wrong_ with you?

Suddenly, he felt mighty glad that he was going to be up in Thunderbird 5 for the next month, if he was going to start having kinky thoughts about Tin-Tin whenever she was around. She liked her short dresses and tiny bikinis, after all. She flicked her hair and flirted with them on a regular basis, playing one off against the other, teasing them playfully. Scott had observed once that if she wasn't careful she was going to run into trouble one day.

Well, he didn't want to be that trouble. Nor did he want to be the cause of any Alan angst, because once their baby brother started sulking, his fits of pique could go on for days.

No, he sure didn't envy Alan for being the one involved with Tin-Tin. Let Alan have all the dramas and insecurity. John craved stability.

Well, he used to.

He went straight to his room to shower again and get changed. He made sure every grain of sand had been removed from his crotch area. He didn't want to be shoving his hand down the back of his trousers in front of Scott once they were space bound in Thunderbird 3. If anyone ended up with the nickname Sandy Balls, he wanted it to be Gordon.

He pulled on some dark grey denims, pulled a red sweater over his head. He combed his wet hair again. He picked up his bag and left his room to go and wait in the lounge.

####

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11

_I can't help but upload these chapters quickly. John and Karen are an impatient duo. And I love them for it, because I can be a procrastinator most other times and a kick up the butt is sorely needed._

_Hello to all readers and reviewers, to the guys who've mailed me recently, lamsey2010, Spev and Fran and Donna with words of encouragement and orders to keep smiling._

_Spev, thanks for the John Wayne inspiration!_

_**Disclaimers: TV Verse. Tracys and other Thunderbirds characters belong to someone else, Karen and all Ocs belong to me. **_

_**Rated M for adult themes and swearing. **(Not much in this chapter.)_

_####_

Karen's Monday morning alarm rang at 7.30am, rousing her out of a surprisingly deep sleep. She opened her eyes to find her vision impeded. For one horrifying moment she thought she'd gone blind, then she realised John's shirt was still draped over her head. She screwed it up and threw it off, pulling herself into a sitting position, yawning widely and raking tangles of knotted hair out of her face. She felt like shit. Alcohol was nice and everything, but she had never learned not to overdo it. Especially on a work night.

She swung her legs out of bed, stood up stiffly. Her back and legs ached, her shoulders throbbed. She was suffering the after effects of two solid days of sex, and all the bruises were coming out now. She wondered if John was feeling the same way- after all, he'd been taking most of the strain. His legs and lower back must be killing him, too.

She walked- wincing, and a little like John Wayne- to the bathroom, where she threw the oversized T-Shirt she was wearing into the laundry basket. She got into the shower and turned the water on. She stood under the warm jets, letting the water relax her. She remembered the antics she and John had got up to in here on Saturday morning. Showers would never be the same again.

She brushed her teeth in the shower to save time, and soaped thoroughly using almond shower crème from the Walburn's gift bag. It reminded her of John's naked body, lean and supple and golden in the glow of candlelight, of the way he looked at her through those cat-like eyes, that languorous smile weaving across his lips. She caressed herself and tried to pretend it was him caressing her. After a few minutes of unsatisfactory fondling, she sighed, rinsed herself and got out.

She grabbed a towel, went back to the bedroom to get dressed for work. Luckily she could dress casually for the library, as long as she was presentable and not in jeans or sneakers she could pretty much wear what she liked.

When she entered the bedroom, the first thing she could smell was John. Not just his shirt, but the very essence of him, strong and masculine. She filled her lungs with it until she got a dizzy spell. They had spent nearly two days having wild sex in that bed. She could smell his sweat and her perfume mingled together. There were still pizza crumbs scattered underfoot all over the floor and rug.

She picked up her phone and idly turned it over in her hands. He hadn't called since yesterday afternoon. When he had said "I love you."

Well, when he had blurted out "I love you."

It was not like a man to make such an extraordinary confession after two days. Men didn't say those three little words even after two years sometimes. Not unless they wanted something. Either sex or peace and quiet. But then, John was no ordinary man. He was very different. He seemed completely self-possessed with a quiet self-confidence. He wouldn't say something if he didn't mean it. He would not choose his words so lightly.

She put the phone back down on the bed and began getting dressed. Be careful, she told herself, pulling a yellow sweater over her head. Don't give him attributes that he may not possess. Don't over romanticise him. She had done that with Alex, and Alex had betrayed her in the worst way.

She pulled on a dark green skirt, smoothed the sweater over it. She slipped comfortable but trendy flats onto her feet, knowing she'd be running up and down stairs all day. She went into her tiny kitchen to make coffee and toast and apply her usual minimal amount of makeup.

She switched the radio on for the news, drank a small glass of orange juice, grimaced at the taste of it after just having brushed her teeth. She busied herself buttering her toast as the coffee percolated. She wished she had the guts to call him and say good morning. She didn't even know what time it was where he lived.

Come to think of it, she didn't actually know where he lived at all.

How had he managed to avoid telling her_ that_?

He could be hours behind, or hours ahead. He could actually be in the same Time Zone. He might not even have flown abroad- he just said he was a long way from home, like Lucky Luke, the poor lonesome cowboy.

She munched her toast, poured a mug of steaming coffee. The newsreader on the radio was talking about property values. She hated the money report, it depressed her. She did the same thing she always did at this time on a work morning, she switched over to Rock FM and hoped they'd be playing a song and not just droning on and on about themselves. She was out of luck. The DJ was laughing hysterically about something that had happened to him at a party. She switched the radio off and stood at the window to start applying her eyeliner.

What would John think if she called? She looked at her phone, lying on the counter in front of her. It would only be to say hello. She had to get to work, after all. The worst thing that could happen would be that his phone was switched off.

No, the worst thing that could happen would be if a woman answered and there were kids in the background.

She sipped coffee, picked the phone up. She ran her thumb over the keypad. He said he loved her. How could he mind a quick hello?

####

John sat in the lounge waiting for Scott to appear. He just wanted to get moving now. Virgil and Gordon had already begun teasing him for falling into the sea with Tin-Tin._ What were you doing in_ _the sea with Tin-Tin, Johnny? Looking at her legendary water mamba? _That had been Gordon.

_She's very selective about who sees her water mamba. I don't think Johnny's reached the water_ _mamba stage, yet_. That had been Virgil. It had continued, on and on.

"Have you seen Tin-Tin's legendary water mamba, Virgil?"

"I've caught a glimpse, Gordon, I've caught a glimpse. It moved a little too fast for me to get a good look, though."

Then they had descended into childish innuendo and sniggering and John had got fed up listening to them. He had gone over to the sofa and plonked himself down with his travel bag. He didn't care how long he had to wait for Scott, he was staying right here until his brother arrived.

He felt the vibration go off in his pocket a split second before the ring tone started up. The sound caught Virgil's attention, and his older brother raised an eyebrow inquisitively. John dug the ringing cell phone out of his pocket, stared at the name flashing on the screen.

Well, hardly a name, just an initial._ K._

He wasn't prepared for the way his heart suddenly lurched in his chest. He forgot where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. He pressed the green key and held the phone tightly to his ear. His palm was already sweating.

"Hello?" he uttered, his throat dry.

"Heyy." her voice was warm and soft and laced with relief. John could hear the sounds of a busy street in the background, and the tap, tap, tap of her footsteps. "How _are_ you?"

"I'm good," he said, his heart beating nineteen to the dozen. "How are _you_?"

"I'm good too. I'm just on my way to work, it's kinda noisy." On cue, a car horn blared.

"Was that a car?" John asked. "Honey, are you crossing the road?"

She laughed. "No, John, that wasn't me. I'm nowhere near the road, don't worry."

"Okay, but you shouldn't talk on your phone when you're crossing the road. Promise me you won't do that, okay?"

"I promise," she said, solemnly. "So? What are you up to, honey? You at work yet?"

"No, not yet. I'm just waiting for my transport..."

At that moment Scott appeared, his loud voice carrying into their conversation as he passed the sofa and went over to his father's desk. Jeff was somewhere in another part of the house, possibly Brains' lab. If he had been in the lounge, John would not have answered his phone.

"Who's that?" asked Karen.

"Uh, that's my brother. The test pilot."

Another car horn blared.

"Karen, I'm not happy with you talking on the phone in the middle of traffic," John said, his voice almost pleading. "It ruins your concentration. You could get hit."

"John, baby, I'm nowhere near the road, I promise." There was laughter in her voice, and the way she called him 'baby' made his head spin.

Scott came over to the sofa and landed on it with a thud. "Hey, Space cadet. You ready?"

John looked at Scott with just a little irritation, pointing at the phone pressed against his ear.. "Yeah, I'm just talking to..."

"Don't worry, keep talking. We'll get going, anyway. Virgil, send us down, will you?"

Virgil acknowledged Scott's request and activated the controls that operated Thunderbird 3's secret sofa transportation system.

John had already said his goodbyes earlier, but rapid movement caught his eye and he looked up just as Gordon and Tin-Tin rushed into the lounge from the balcony and started waving madly at him as the sofa began descending through the floor.

"Goodbye, John! Goodbye! See you in four weeks time! _We love you_!" cried Tin-Tin, her musical, lilting voice carrying straight down John's phone and into Karen's ear.

"Goodbye, guys," John answered, waving back, acutely conscious of the silence that had formed on the other end.

The sofa descended from the lounge and the empty one passed them on the way up. Scott sat a mere foot away, a smile playing on his lips, pretending he hadn't heard. John pulled a face. His eldest brother was far too knowing at times.

"Who was that?" Karen asked at last.

He knew the question had been coming. "_That _was Tin-Tin," he replied. "She lives with us. But, before you draw any conclusions, there's no need to worry about her, she's heavily involved with my brother."

"The test pilot?"

"No, the one who likes cars. The test pilot hasn't been out with a girl in years." He squirmed sideways as Scott gave him a playful, though still quite solid, punch on the arm.

Scott pulled John's phone away from his ear and despite John's indignant protests spoke directly to Karen. "Hey, the test pilot's seen more action in the last year than Mr. Moonlight here has seen in the last decade."

"Well, whoever you are, he's certainly been making up for lost time," Karen retorted, "_If _you know what I mean."

Scott gave a hearty laugh. "I'm Scott. I make sure he stays out of trouble. Actually, I make sure they _all _stay out of trouble."

"And do they?"

"No, not really. But it doesn't stop me trying."

"Can I have my phone back, please?" said John, making a grab for it.

"I'm Karen," she said to Scott. "I'd be happy to take over from you if you wanted. I _like_ it when John's a bad boy."

John finally succeeded in wrestling the phone away from his laughing brother just as they approached the final part of the journey to Thunderbird 3's vast hangar beneath the Round House.

"Whatever it was you said to him, he's got a great, big smirk on his face now," John told her.

"He seems nice," Karen said, the smile coming out in her voice, "if a little dominant. But I'd much rather talk to you."

"I know. Me too. It's too bad, huh. I wish I'd..." he stopped, acutely aware of Scott, and what he had almost said out loud. _I wish I'd never come home._

"I know. Life's a bitch, baby. I miss you already. The bed was way too empty when I woke up."

"Mine was too." John looked up. The sofa was beginning its ascent into the bowels of Thunderbird 3. He was going to have to end the call. "Listen, sweetheart, I have to go now. Scott and I are travelling in a minute, and you know how I feel about phones and concentration and stuff."

"I know, my darling. You're a Major League worrywart," she chuckled.

"That's me," he concurred with a smile. "Anyway, Karen, I promise I will call you later on, when I'm settled at work. Okay? I promise."

"Okay. John, I miss you. I really do miss you."

They were inside the huge red rocket now. Scott made a sympathetic face and a winding up motion with his hand. John nodded, briefly held up a finger. "Karen, I miss you too, And you know what I said yesterday, I realise it was a bit abrupt and everything, but...I meant it. Really."

Scott tapped his watch. John nodded. "Baby, I really, really have to go. Scott's having a cow. I'll talk to you soon. Have a great day at work, okay? Be safe."

"I will, John, I will. I...I love you too. 'Bye, sweetheart, 'bye. Talk to you later."

Karen hung up first. John sat on the sofa staring at the blank screen, hardly believing what he'd just heard. _She loved him too._

"Come on, Romeo," said Scott, giving John a brotherly squeeze around the shoulders, trying to shake the look of happy bewilderment off John's face. "Get yourself up into that command module. You remember how to fly this thing, don't you?"

"She just told me she loves me," John uttered. "Scott, she just told me she _loves_ me."

"Well, that's great, isn't it? She feels the same way you do. What's the problem?"

"There isn't one. I guess."

"Well, stop looking like someone who lost a hundred dollars and found ten. Move your skinny butt into that command module and get us out of here. I'll come up in a few minutes and you can do all the crying you want." Scott swivelled John by the shoulders towards the elevator shaft and gave him a gentle push. John stepped into the elevator without another word, and rode it up through the belly of the great rocket into the command module situated in the nose cone.

Once in the command module, John activated the switch that opened the recess where all the uniforms were kept. Spare ones for all of them, with Tin-Tin's and Brains' having recently been added. He rotated the circular rack until he found his. He pulled it off the hook and held it up.

As he began stripping off, he thought to himself that if there was one thing that made him feel proud of who he was, it was this innocuous looking pile of blue and lilac. Pulling the uniform trousers up his legs, he began to feel his identity altering. Pulling the top half over his head, he started feeling like a different man. When he slipped his feet into the lilac trimmed blue boots, he felt himself stand taller. And when he settled the lilac sash emblazoned with the powerful insignia of International Rescue onto his left shoulder, he felt complete.

No-one had been vain enough to install a full-length mirror in the command module of Thunderbird 3, but John knew what he looked like in his uniform. He looked like a forceful, intelligent, capable man. That wasn't vanity, that was understandable pride in who he was and what he stood for.

If Karen could see him now.

He settled himself into the command chair and activated the control panel. Thunderbird 3 whined and then roared as it woke up. The whole ship shuddered, straining at the leash like a greyhound. John engaged ignition, and the tremors increased as the huge rocket began to lift, rising steadily up through its hangar, through the middle of the Round House, and onwards on its journey into space and the place John Tracy liked to call his second home.

####

Karen skipped up the library steps and entered the building. Her first encounter was with a woman called Cathy who warned her that she was late.

"Three minutes," said Karen, looking at her watch.

"Teela's on the rampage this morning," Cathy responded. "She's out for blood."

"Why, did someone return their Danielle Steel a day late?" Karen muttered. Teela Murphy was their supervisor. A more catty, shrewish woman she had yet to meet.

"She got me for talking to Anise from the Languages Department. Bitch."

"Well, I don't give a crap about Teela today. I've got other things on my mind. First though, I need a coffee."

She went into the staff quarters and put her bag in her locker. Then she went over to the kitchenette area and filled the kettle over the sink full of cold tea bags. Didn't anybody clean up in here? John would have a fit if he saw this mess. Not just cold tea bags, but circular coffee stains all over the counter and sticky puddles of spilled sugar. They'd have ants before long if they weren't careful. She grabbed a cloth and began wiping.

"Ah, Miss Meadows."

Karen felt her stomach clench. Teela Murphy. Not now.

"You're late."

"Three minutes, big deal," Karen muttered. She turned to look at her po-faced supervisor. "I have time for a coffee," she said calmly.

"Make it quick," said Murphy, and stalked out again.

Karen flipped the middle fingers of both hands at the woman's receding back. "Swivel on these," she said under her breath.

She took her coffee and went to sit by the window. The view from it was singularly uninspiring, just a concreted yard with some bicycles chained to a series of metal U-poles, some ornamental flower pots and some garbage bins. There was a cat nosing around and some pigeons strutting in circles around each other. She put her chin in her hand and drifted off into space.

What she wanted to do today was investigate John Tracy. Just to see if there was anything he wasn't telling her. She wanted to find his books, read the sleeve notes. She wanted to find a picture of him and gaze at it all day. She was going to take his books home with her and read the very words he had written. She wanted to immerse herself thoroughly in his world of constellations and star maps. She reached up and touched her nose. _He called my freckles stars_, she thought dreamily.

"Oh my God, Karen," said Cathy, coming into the staff room. "Don't let Teela catch you staring out the window. You need to get up on the second floor pronto. There's children everywhere."

"Dinosaur exhibition again?" Karen smiled. Their library catered well for school parties. The children's section was full of different exhibitions at different times of the year. They were affiliated with the museum three blocks down and often the teachers would bring the children in to learn more about the museum's offerings in a more controlled environment. Not that the children ever remained controlled.

Karen drank the remains of her coffee and got up to start the day. This was going to be fun. She loved the kids. She always had a laugh watching them running around. They really seemed to enjoy learning when it was made fun. She wondered what John thought about kids. Obviously he didn't have any of his own, but she could picture him showing them the stars through a telescope, talking at great length about the Magellanic Clouds. Perhaps he'd take them to an observatory. She imagined he'd be fantastic with children.

She shook her head quickly to get rid of the thought that was already forming, of a little tow-headed blond boy looking up at her with John's eyes and calling her "Mommy." Get a grip, Meadows, she told herself. Thinking about _that_ already! How to make a man run a mile in the opposite direction!

But it was hard not to think along those lines when you loved someone the way she had already begun to love John. Anyway, fantasies were okay, weren't they?

It's not as if fantasies ever came true.

####

With Thunderbird 3 well on its way, John gave Scott permission to come up to the command module. Scott arrived a couple of minutes later, grinning at the sight of John sitting smartly at the controls in his uniform.

"I see it didn't take long for you to get back into the swing of things," he observed.

"Someone has to keep the show running smoothly," John replied, arching his golden eyebrows.

"Alan's sure gonna be glad to get home, anyway. Five weeks away from Tin-Tin?" Scott made a whistling noise through his teeth. "I'm just glad my room isn't next to theirs."

"I just hope he hasn't clogged the drainage pipes with wads of tissue, if you know what I'm saying," said John.

"John, I do know what you're saying, and thank you for the mental image."

"You're welcome. I'm the one who's gonna have to clean them out, anyway."

"So, moving swiftly on," said Scott. "This Karen. Love, huh? For both of you?"

"Yeah," said John, blushing. "Crazy, isn't it? My whole life has changed after just one weekend. It's pretty incredible to think that four days ago I was on my own, and now I'm head over heels in love with the most amazing woman I've ever met. Am I dreaming?"

"No, John, there's no way I would appear in one of your dreams by choice," Scott teased. "This is real, buddy."

"The only problem is dad. How do I break the news? 'Dad, I think I've met my future wife and mother of my children. Is it okay if I tell her about our organization?' I think, Scott, and this is just a wild guess, that he'd hit the roof."

"I don't know, John. If you were genuine and he knew it was serious, there's be no point in him hitting the roof. He'd have to accept it, eventually. You're a grown man, after all."

"He'd make it difficult though. I'm dreading ever inviting her over to the island and going through all that Operation Cover Up business. Virgil lolling around in a cravat and everyone acting like nonchalant rich kids."

Scott laughed, shook his head amiably. "But you know that business is necessary, John. Dad's right to worry in a way. We can't afford_ any_ of our secrets to leak out. No matter that Karen sounds like the nicest girl in the world, dad still needs to be convinced."

"I'll need to talk to him soon." said John. "Just to get it over with."

"Well, maybe when you're settled back into your routine and you and dad are communicating every day, you can find a quiet time, say when he's just checking in, to tell him. Try and catch him when he's having his after dinner brandy."

John smiled. "Maybe I'll wait until he's had two, and have one myself."

"So, you had a Girls' Night In with Tin-Tin and told her. It won't be long before Alan finds out. You going to tell him yourself?"

"No. You can do it on the journey back to Base. I'm not in the mood for a million questions from Alan right now."

"Okay, if you want me to. Then that just leaves dad who doesn't know."

"And Brains."

"Brains?" Scott grinned. "I wouldn't be so sure Brains doesn't know."

"He can be a dark horse," John admitted. "Anyway, _please _tell Alan to keep it from dad. I just need to work out a plan of action. I'd have egg on my face if this didn't work out and I'd already convinced everyone I was one step away from the altar."

Scott stared at his younger brother wide-eyed. "Man. You really do have it bad, don't you?"

"I do indeed have it bad, Scott. It's killing me to be away from her right now."

Scott put his arm around John's shoulders. "Listen to big brother," he said. "Everything will be all right. Keep that sharp little chin of yours up. You're in the uniform, Johnny. _The_ uniform. The best goddamned uniform in the world. And out of the world, too."

John puffed his chest out. "Damn right I am," he said in his most manly tone. Which was actually quite manly when he thought about it.

"Karen should see you now," Scott shook his head. "_Damn, _she'd be impressed."

"I'd show her, huh. International Rescue's finest."

"Actually Johnny, International Rescue's finest would be me, but I'll let you have that one for now. Seeing as it makes you feel better and all."

John laughed, gave Scott's hair a ruffle. "What did I tell you, Scott? My lady prefers brains over brawn."

"And don't I have them both?" Scott smiled sweetly, batting his surprisingly long eyelashes.

"Ah, maybe, but you don't got what_ I _got." John tipped his eyebrow, gave Scott the look that said 'beat that'.

"I got something similar. Works just as well."

"I bet it doesn't."

They bantered back and forth about the functionality of each other's attributes for a while, and then John picked up the signal from Thunderbird 5 that effectively acted as a tractor beam, setting the huge rocket on a steady course towards the entrance of the space station's docking tube and eventually guiding her in.

"You're going to be okay, John," said Scott, warmly. "You can get through these next four weeks easily. You'll have the supply run in two weeks, that'll break it up a bit. I'll try to come back then if you want."

John looked at his brother with fondness. Scott could be quite perceptive at times. Especially when it came to his family. "Sure, Scott. Be nice to see you. Thanks, I appreciate it."

Scott grinned, thumped his brother on the back, winding him slightly. "Okay. Let's get this baby docked. Our little brother will be climbing the walls by now."

Thunderbird 3 locked successfully into the boarding tube and powered down. John bid his brother farewell and climbed out into the access tunnel. No sooner had his booted foot touched the metal floor than the entry hatch slid open and Alan appeared in the space beyond, frowning and tapping at his watch. "What time do you call this?" he muttered, shaking his white blond head in exasperation.

"Eleven forty three?" replied John coolly.

"Funny guy. I see you haven't changed."

"Alan my man, little do you know." John stepped through the hatch, put his bag down on the floor and enveloped Alan in a bear hug, surprising the youngest Tracy into silence. "Good to see you, fella. I'll excuse your lack of manners for now."

"Ah, you know I'm only joshing," Alan said, clapping his brother on the back. "Good to see you too, bro. Nice vacation?"

"The best, Alan, the best. Scott will fill you in on the details."

"Why can't you?"

"Because you need to get back to Base,and besides, I don't think I could take any more teasing right now. I've had an earful of it from Gordo and Virgil already."

Alan's blue eyes grew wide. "You met someone. Oh my God, you _met_ someone! You're blushing!"

John grinned. "Yep, I met someone. But like I said, Scott will tell you. He'll also tell you not to breathe a word of it to dad. Loose lips sink ships, okay Al?"

"Duh, John, I know how to keep a secret. Well, I'll be. John Tracy has a girlfriend!" Chuckling with considerable amusement, Alan picked up his own bag and made for the access tube. He stepped through, then turned back just before John closed the hatch. "And you actually came back to _this_?"

"Okay, Alan, I'm warning you, get moving before I throw something at you."

Laughing, the youngest Tracy brother disappeared down the tunnel and John pressed the button that would close the hatch and seal him inside the artificial atmosphere of Thunderbird 5 for the next four weeks. The hatch slid down with a soft hiss and a clunk. _Well, that's it now JT,_ he thought. _No_ _getting away from it. Four more weeks of non-stop solitude._

_####_

Karen worked diligently all morning, picking up books that the children had discarded and retrieving small plastic dinosaurs from beneath tables. She directed old ladies to the Romantic Fiction section, knowing full well they were after the racy stuff. She directed a monotone-voiced gentleman towards the elevators and let him talk to her about the knee operation he'd had which meant that he couldn't climb up too many stairs. She chased a couple of teenage boys away from the restrooms, certain that they had been intending to smoke an illegal substance in there. She warned them that if they didn't leave the premises then she'd call for security. She ignored their insolent cat calls as they slunk away, scowling.

And people thought libraries were nice, quiet places.

When her first coffee break arrived, instead of heading down to the staff quarters, she went to the computer room and found a quiet terminal away from prying eyes. She sat down and logged in and called up the search engine. She typed in the name John Tracy and waited for the information to load.

She was surprised when the first John Tracy description fitted him exactly. She hit the link and waited another few seconds while the computer went through the motions.

And then there he was. A beautiful picture of him standing proud in a charcoal grey suit jacket and white turtleneck sweater, in what looked like an observatory setting, a large gleaming telescope positioned behind him.

'John Tracy, astronomer and respected author', stated the caption. She gazed adoringly at the photo for a few moments, refamiliarising herself with his features, remembering what it felt like to kiss those soft, curved lips, stroke that gleaming hair. His forelock had been tamed back, but she knew it was only for the photo. Within ten minutes it would have been flopping down over his forehead again. She smiled. She touched the computer screen, feeling like a lovelorn teenager.

She went on to read the information given.

'John Tracy, third son of eminent former astronaut Jefferson Tracy, has written several books on astronomy and related subjects. He has also discovered a new quasar system now known as the Tracy System in honour of his father.

John Tracy was born and raised in Kansas, USA. He attended Harvard University where he studied electronics and laser communications. His passion for all things astronomical led him to train as an astronaut and has enabled him to follow in his father's footsteps.

Further information on astronomy and related subjects can be found at...'

There followed several links that Karen didn't really have time to look at. Besides, she was too busy staring at that last sentence. An astronaut?

She sat back, her eyes wide.

Her John was an_ astronaut?_

_####_

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

Hey there everyone. Yep it's another speedy upload, I'd love to drag out the suspense but I get so fidgety!

Hi to Louise Hargadon (the undisputed queen of comedy- loving Last To Know), Baby Sue, Loopstagirl, (loving Never Too Late) Sam1, lamsey2010, geuss, Fran, Red Hardy and others who are out there reading and hopefully enjoying. Thanks to everyone for the great reviews that often have me ROTFL.

**Disclaimers: The Tracys aren't mine. If they were, at least four out of the five boys would not leave this room with their clothing intact, let me tell you. OCs are mine. Rated M for adult themes. TV-Verse.**

####

John Tracy at last turned away from the bank of windows after having watched the bright flames of Thunderbird 3's retro engines dwindle into a pinprick glow as she headed down towards Earth and back to Base, taking his eldest and youngest brothers with her. He was now completely alone, save for the constant hum and chatter of Thunderbird 5's communications systems. These systems stayed on twenty four hours a day, never ceasing, never resting from their search for key words like 'help' and 'rescue'. John could keep the chatter muted for as long as he wanted because when a call for International Rescue came through it would be loudly brought to his attention no matter what part of the Space Station he happened to be in- whether in the dome of the observatory watching the stars, the crawlspaces and access tunnels doing basic maintenance, the kitchen area having a meal, or even in the bath.

John went through to the living quarters with his travel bag. _If Alan's left a mess in here I'll kill him,_ he thought idly. He wasn't in the mood for finding cups and plates stashed under the bed today. He threw the bag down onto the bed and fished his phone out. He could still get a signal from up here, he was on a communications satellite, after all. But he wanted to_ see_ her. He'd have to get a web camera going, and make sure there was nothing in the immediate environment to alert her to International Rescue. _No talking to her in your uniform, for a start_, he thought with a wry smile. He kept the phone in his hand as he moved around the room, looking at all the books on the shelves, checking on his beloved potted plant that Alan looked after for him during the weeks that they swapped duty. For all Alan's annoying habits as the baby of the family, he was surprisingly reliable when it came to looking after other peoples' property. John's little plant sometimes looked healthier after four weeks of Alan's TLC than it did with his own, and Alan wasn't even a horticulture fan.

John sat on the bed and started unpacking his bag. He put all his clothes into neat piles and started putting them away in cupboards and drawers. He put some music on for company, a nice, soothing piano concerto that Virgil had played for him a couple of years ago during one of his visits back home. Virgil had pulled a face when John had asked to record the piece he had started to play, but John managed to convince him that a) the music was beautiful, and b) nothing would remind him more of Virgil and home than hearing his piano music drifting around the satellite during the hours when he felt most lonely. Virgil had been genuinely moved by that sentiment, and went on to play quite the most beautiful and heartfelt piece of music John had ever heard. It still took his breath away now, and he thought of Karen with more than just a physical longing as he hung his shirts and trousers in the wardrobe.

After putting his clothes away, John went to the kitchen. He put some coffee on and rooted through the freezer for something to eat. He selected a frozen burger and threw it into the microwave. Lazy cooking, but he just wanted something quick and filling- something to take the edge off the emptiness that was growing inside him.

The microwave pinged just as his coffee began percolating. He squeezed a small blob of ketchup onto the burger, pressed the top half of the bun onto it and carried his meal and his coffee through to the main communications room to listen to some of the messages being monitored.

John was good at at languages. Not only did he appear to have a natural ear for it, he listened to several thousand different dialects a day while he was here. He could even pick out regional accents in foreign languages if he listened carefully enough. He took huge bites out of his burger as he listened to Scandinavian weather reports and Portuguese firefighters and Armenian ambulance services. He swallowed coffee as he picked up the details of a collapsed sewer in a Spanish coastal town and wondered how his brothers would like to deal with crawling through rivers of effluent in the hot Mediterranean sunshine. _They probably wouldn't enjoy it very much_, he thought with a grin, picturing Virgil and Gordon covered from head to toe in steaming shit.

All these different voices chattered away, oblivious to the fact that International Rescue's space monitor was listening intently. It was a little like being in a room full of people that were ignoring you. John finished his meal, drank the last of his coffee, and pulled his cell phone out of his pistol holster. He wanted to talk to Karen, and he wanted to talk to her _now_. He moved away from the communications consoles and went over to the bank of windows, looking out at the huge blue globe of Mother Earth engaged in her endless, silent spin around the sun with him and Thunderbird 5 tagged onto her skirts. It was a pretty giddy trip, if you thought about it.

He already had Karen on speed-dial. He held the phone to his ear as he watched the planet revolve, his eye caught by flashes of ocean and swirls of weather systems. The ringing tone went on for a while but he didn't want to hang up. He'd leave a heartfelt message if she...

"Hello?" Her voice was low and breathless. "John, is that you?"

"Yeah, hi honey...what's up? Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"God, no. I'm so glad you called. My boss is in a bad mood and I'm hiding in the astronomy section because it's quiet up here. As you know."

"Yeah, well, it is _usually_." He smiled. "So, how are you, sweetheart? Dropped any good books lately?"

"Ha ha. No, I've got a cart today. We had some children in, and the vending machine in the lobby broke down and started giving out free drinks so there was a bit of a mini riot there for a while. But other than that, it's quiet, ish. How about you? Busy at work?"

"Dead," he replied. "I'm in the office. There's no-one else around, so I figured I could get away with a personal call." _No-one else around? Ain't that the truth_, he thought as he gazed at the Earth, at the distance between them. "I miss you."

"Me too, baby. I'm in the exact aisle where we met. Our aisle."

"Where we met? Where you almost raped me," John laughed.

"I think I even found one of your blond hairs," she laughed back. "I'm thinking of getting a full forensics team in."

"Did you, ah...look at any of my books?" To hell with modesty. He wanted her to read his work.

"I did, as a matter of fact. I'm taking a couple home with me. For research, of course."

John laughed harder. "That's the first time I've heard of astronomy as pornography."

"It won't be the last, either. Did you know you have a really sexy way of writing? 'Spiral galaxies stripped bare', things pulsating and slamming into each other. It's pretty hot stuff, John Tracy."

"Well, that's what happens. Things do pulsate and slam and throb and rotate. I told you, forget about your boring old soap operas. Watch all that bumping and grinding out in the cosmos. It's enough to make your grandmother cough up a hairball."

Karen snorted back a giggle. "I'm going to get into trouble if my boss finds me in the stacks talking dirty to my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend _and_ respected author, if you don't mind. Just show her some of my titles. She'll cream herself."

"Sadly, she's more your Hitler Diaries kind of lady, and she doesn't go for men. But thanks for the image. Oh, John, there is something I wanted to ask you...I mean, it was on the internet, so...um, you know, I wasn't particularly looking for information, I just wanted to see what there was..."

"You googled me." John said.

"Well, yeah. Sorry."

"No, that's okay. The internet's there to be used. I'd have done the same. So what is it you wanted to ask?"

"Er, well, there was a short biography of you, saying you were born in Kansas and you went to Harvard and your dad's called Jefferson and that he was an astronaut. And then it went on to say that, ah...you had astronaut training too." She paused, he could almost hear her biting her lip. "John? Are you an astronaut?"

John rubbed his hand over his jaw. He hadn't known the astronaut information was quite so readily available. But then again, it wasn't a big secret either. He still had friends from his days at the the training facility years ago who had never made even the slightest connection to International Rescue.

"Okay, yes. I guess you could say I'm an astronaut. Maybe I should have mentioned it, but I didn't want to come over as a complete show-off. You know, author, astronaut, it sounds pretty far out, you've gotta admit."

"It does, you're right. You live in a world far away from mine, John. It scares me, in a way."

He felt his heart sink. "Honey, don't say that. I love you. What does it matter what I do?"

"It matters because what else am I going to find that you do? Brain surgery?"

"Don't be like that. I'm sorry about the astronaut thing. I trained so that I could be like dad, so that he could be proud of me. My dad was one of the finest in his field. I had the opportunity, so I took it. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"I never had any opportunities like that, but yes, maybe I would have. Although my dad left my mom when I was sixteen, so I never had any desire to emulate _him_."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that. Guess we didn't really talk much about ourselves, did we?"

"No, we didn't. So maybe it's time that we did. You know, while we're apart. It might be easier to say things when we can't see each other."

"I guess." John stared wistfully at his home planet. "This isn't looking good for me, is it. It looks like I've got a whole closet full of secrets that I'm not telling you."

"The astronaut business was a surprise, yes, but it's a noble profession, and I admit I'm thrilled that I'm dating a space jockey. So I'm not mad at you, John, just worried that I love you and yet I still don't really know you. And you don't really know me."

"I know. But I _want_ to know you, Karen. Believe me, I want to know..." What? _I want to know everything about you? _It was hardly fair to say that to her when he was still withholding the biggest secret of all. John stopped talking.

Karen finished his sentence for him. "Everything?"

John sighed. The Earth glimmered, seemed to wink at him. "What I do know is...you have a mole on your right shoulderblade. You have a little silver crescent shaped scar on the top of your right thigh, at the back. You have a small fleck of brown in your left eye, and you have that little constellation of stars across your nose. Your natural smell is like olive oil and lemons. You're always chewing on your lip. All these things were enough to make me fall in love with you. For now, that's all I need to know. The rest will come when it's ready."

"Oh, John, you say the nicest things, really you do. But you finding out that I once worked for six months at McDonalds isn't quite the same thing as me finding out that you're an astronaut."

"Karen, I don't care about all that. I just know I want you."

There was silence for a moment, then a bit of scuffling, then she spoke again. "I thought my boss was coming so I tried to look as if I was busy. It's okay, though, she's gone again."

"Karen," John repeated. "You heard me, right? You heard what I just said?"

"Yes, I did. And I want you too, desperately. I'm sorry I googled you."

"No, Karen. I want you to google me. Google my dad _and_ my family. I want you to know whatever's out there, and then whatever you want to ask me, I'll answer it. I promise."

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Dad, Scott, all of them. They're probably all linked. Go for it."

"But that's like snooping."

"No! Karen..." John rolled his eyes, frowned at the Earth. "You know what? I really wish you were here right now. Because if you were, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. We'd be fucking like rabbits. We wouldn't even have the breath to be talking about anything."

She laughed. "God, you're so right. I miss you so much. Listen, John, can I have an address for you? I want to send you something. Nothing porno, don't worry."

"Okay," he grinned. "I'll message it over. Don't worry, it won't be the first time one of us has received pornography through the mail. My brother Virgil is very fond of painting nudes." _Okay,_ _there. Now she had another name._

"Virgil?"

"Yeah. It's an unusual name, but it suits him. I couldn't imagine him being called anything else."

"Virgil who paints nudes. Sounds like an interesting guy." She laughed, then broke off abruptly. "Shit, my boss is coming back, she must be looking for me. I'd better go. I love you John, take care baby, I love you. 'Bye."

The line was disconnected before John could utter a word in response. The sudden solitude hit him again like a punch to the diaphragm. The visions he'd had while he was talking to her, of her crouched behind a bookshelf trying to avoid her boss, the dusty racks of books, the unique library smell, the laughing chatter of real people in the background, all became replaced once again by the hard metal structure of the communications room and all its winking, blinking, flashing, impersonal console lights. Even the constant background chatter was detached from him- no faces to put to the voices, no chance of engaging in friendly conversation. Not unless he wanted to risk the full wrath of Jefferson Tracy.

Mother Earth looked back at him in sympathy. What can I do? She seemed to say. The person you want is here. I'll do my best to look after her, but the rest is up to you.

_You'd better look after her,_ John replied silently. _You and I have a mutual understanding. We look out for each other._

John took his dirty cup and plate back to the kitchen, washed them and put them upside down on the rack to dry. He poured out more coffee in a clean mug. He massaged the back of his neck, rotated his head to relieve the feeling of tension that was building up. There was only one thing he wanted to do at times like this.

He carried his coffee through the communications room and climbed up into the dome. He stood at his beloved telescope and pointed it at a faraway star cluster. He would find one and call it Karen.

####

Teela Murphy's rant was going in one ear and out the other. Karen vaguely heard the words 'tardy' and 'timewasting' but she really didn't care. Her head was filled with thoughts of John in an astronaut suit, maybe hanging in zero gravity at the end of a long cord attached to a space shuttle. She still couldn't get her head around the idea. An author, yes. An astronaut? Such a far-fetched notion!

"Jobs are precious these days," Teela was saying. "You 'd think you'd want to hang on to yours."

That brought Karen out of her daydream. "Excuse me? Are you threatening me with the sack?"

"Don't be absurd. I'm merely saying, you don't appear to be concentrating on your work. Last week you argued about coffee breaks and made a hoo-ha about the availability of book trolleys. Today you arrive late and then go missing after lunch. Where have you been for the last half hour?"

_Making a voodoo doll of you so that I can stick pins in it_, Karen thought irritably. "In the stacks," she replied. "Putting books away. Doing my job, in other words."

"Don't be funny with me, Miss Meadows. You're only a part-timer."

"I work bloody hard, _Miss_ Murphy. If it's people who don't pull their weight you're after, try the media room."

It was well known amongst the staff that two of Teela Murphy's nephews worked in the media room and spent most of their time playing World of Warcraft on the internet but never got into trouble for it. This was because their father, who was Teela's brother, was a local politician involved with funding for the Arts. This funding included the library and the museum and art gallery down the road. The last person that put in a formal complaint about Jamie and Lewis Murphy had found themselves transferred to another branch of the library out in the suburbs.

"Leave the media room out of this," Teela said, her dark green eyes narrowed. "You're employed to keep this place ship shape. Right now it looks like a ship _wreck_. Those children left sweet wrappers and crisp packets everywhere. You need to go down and sort that out." With that, she turned on her heel and strode off, her angular shoulders swinging back and forth.

Karen snorted to herself. She hated menial jobs. And it seemed the more menial the job, the more of a bully the manager. Metaphorically whacking everyone around the back of the head with the rule book and petty little observations that completely ignored a person's overall conduct. Never mind that Karen worked bloody hard on Monday if she missed a sweet wrapper on Wednesday. These were the inconsequential details that Teela Murphy involved herself with. Just because she was a hard faced witch who couldn't get a girlfriend, and whose last girlfriend left her because Teela had scratched up the woman's car with a set of keys in a jealous rage.

Oh well. Only three hours to go, and then she could pick up John's books, stop at the supermarket, and then get the hell home.

She had some looking up to do.

####

Three hours of losing himself in the stars and John was still restless. He hadn't found any stars worthy of bearing the name Karen. A star called Karen would have to be unique, unlike any other star. Oh well, he 'd just have to keep trying.

He grabbed some bottled water and went to the gym, stripped down to T-shirt and boxers, pulled on a pair of running shoes. He stepped onto the treadmill and switched it on, adjusting the speed and gradient of the machine, going from a brisk walk, to a brisk uphill walk, to an uphill jog, and then finally an uphill run. He listened to the steady thump, thump, thump, thump of his shoes hitting the moving belt, the sound of his breath coming in bursts. He swung his arms rhythmically, reached out and and increased the speed of the belt even more. His feet pounded on the belt, the machine whirred and the digital displays ticked over. Sweat began trickling down his face and neck. His back grew hot and clammy. He yanked the T-Shirt off over his head and threw it to one side, running barechested, his stomach muscles taut and gleaming.

He glanced up at himself in the mirror, saw a focused face with a pair of intense dark blue eyes glaring back at him. The forelock of blond hair that Karen seemed to love so much was flopping up and down on his head, dripping sweat into his face. He ran faster and faster, his thighs and calves burning, the sweat now running freely down his chest and back.

_Keep going_, he told himself. _Keep going. Just do that extra mile..._

He was pushing himself, but he needed to. He was wound up tight like a coiled spring. He had seldom felt such a need to make himself hurt. Not since high school, when he'd had to prove his athleticism in the face of teasing about his bookishness. He ran and ran and ran, ignoring his screaming leg muscles. He needed to run a marathon, the way he was feeling.

Time passed. John ran until he was in agony. He threw his head back, his sodden hair sending a spray of sweat into the air. He had broken through the wall and now it felt as though his legs weren't going to stop even if he wanted them to. He was soaked, and he had finished his water. He slowed the machine down a little and kept running, his feet continuously hitting the belt again and again and again. His mind drifted off and he almost came out of himself, like being asleep and awake at the same time.

_That's it, man, run until you can't think. _

_####_

Karen settled herself in front of her computer, a tall glass of coke on one side, a cheese salad sandwich on the other. She dug into a packet of pretzels as she switched the monitor on and mentally psyched herself up for a bit of Tracy family probing. Why did she get the feeling she was straying into forbidden territory? John had given her full permission to search, but when she thought about the way his voice changed when she started talking about his background, the subtle shift in his attitude, it almost put her off wanting to know.

She'd start at the top. The father, Jefferson Tracy. She loaded the search engine and typed in his name.

There was a lot more information on Jefferson, or Jeff as he was called here, than there was on John. And there was a photo. It was an old one of the man in his astronaut days, looking proud and confident, the tilt of his head reminiscent of the way John tilted his head, although Jeff was a lot more rugged in appearance.

The further she read on, the more impressed Karen became. She sipped her coke, never taking her eyes off the screen. Son of a Kansas wheat farmer. So, not born into money then. That impressed her, relaxed her attitude a little. 'A fascination with mathematics and machinery caused the young Jeff Tracy to join the American Air Force, where he progressed smoothly through the ranks until he eventually became a colonel'. Karen's eyes widened at this man's courage and tenacity. Then came the Space Agency Project (she made a mental note to look into that, too) and his journey to the moon.

She carried on reading. 'Jeff Tracy's career as a leading astronaut was ended abruptly by family tragedy. He immediately abandoned the path to fame and glory and returned home to Kansas to concentrate on raising his sons.'

Family tragedy? She wondered about that. If he'd had to return home to bring up his sons, then possibly something had happened to their mother. John's mother. Had she died? Had John lost his mom when he was young?

After returning home, Jeff Tracy had turned his hand to civil engineering and had started up a construction business. This business had seemingly grown and grown until Jeff Tracy found himself sitting on a considerable fortune.

So that explained the executive suite at The Walburn. John Tracy's family had money. Serious money. The favour John said he had called in? Probably a favour from his own father!

She moved her search forward. She typed in Scott Tracy/Jefferson Tracy, to weed out any Scott Tracys that weren't the right ones. She waited a couple of moments, then she found the information she wanted.

She was impressed by, but also disappointed with the accompanying photo. The man was sitting in the cockpit of an Air Force jet, with a fighter pilot's helmet on. She couldn't see his whole face, but the visor was up and she could see his eyes. They were the most extraordinary deep blue colour, with long dark lashes and dark, arched eyebrows. They were really quite the most compelling eyes she'd ever seen. The small area of face she could see around these eyes, including a bit of his nose, was tanned and healthy looking. An All-American guy, she thought. She knew the rest of his face would be handsome, she just wished she could see it.

So Scott had joined the Air Force too, after attending Yale University and then completing his education at Oxford, England. The Kansas wheat farm was getting left further and further behind.

She looked up Virgil Tracy, but was dismayed to find that there was only a small bio and no photograph at all. The man had attended the Denver School of Advanced Technology and was also a gifted artist and jazz pianist. Maybe she'd find more about him if she looked up jazz musicians.

There were precious few links from one Tracy to another. Jeff's bio had links to the Space Agency Project and other members of his astronaut moon mission, and Scott's had links back to Jeff and the American Air Force. But neither Scott nor Virgil had links to each other or to John.

John had said there were five of them, but she had no idea of the other boys' names. She remembered that he'd said one was into racing cars and the other was something to do with the Marines? No...a marine expert, that's what he'd said. But she felt like she'd snooped enough for now, anyway. There hadn't been any more stunning revelations, but the general impression was that Jeff Tracy was a rags-to-riches story and that he'd instilled a healthy work ethic into his boys who had all gone on to do well for themselves. You couldn't get to join the Air Force or become an astronaut, or graduate from an advanced school of technology if you didn't already have it in you, no matter how many connections your father had.

Karen switched off the monitor and sat back. She decided she'd really rather get to know John the natural way, through talking to him and letting him tell her things. Half of her wanted to keep searching, but the old adage 'be careful what you wish for' rang in her ears, warning her not to run before she could walk. John had made so many promises to her already. He'd promised to be truthful, he'd promised not to desert her. He'd promised to stay with her. And what had she promised him in return? She'd promised to trust him.

Trust him, Karen, she told herself, drinking coke and staring at the blank monitor. He's not like Alex, who betrayed you, and he's not like Marcus who had the worst roving eye ever. He's not like Daniel, who hardly ever spoke to you at all, and he's not like all those other ships in the night who were only after casual sex. And he's not like dad. That womaniser who showed you and your mother such disrespect that he couldn't even stick around to see you become an adult, to celebrate your eighteenth birthday or be introduced to your first boyfriend, and who didn't even care that your mother sat at the top of the stairs almost every night for three weeks sobbing her heart out.

John Tracy was different from every other man she had ever encountered in her entire life. So dammit, she was going to trust him if it killed her!

####

John switched off the running machine. He stood panting on the belt and hopped off as it reached the edge. His chest heaved as he drew in lungful after lungful of clean, fresh, sanitised air. His leg muscles twitched and trembled as he staggered over to a bench and sat down, sweat streaming off him. He pushed his drenched hair back, held his face in his hands. Spots and stars danced in front of his eyes. His whole body shook, protesting at the punishment he'd just dealt it. He could feel the oxygen rushing through his bloodstream, trying to suppress the levels of lactic acid in his muscles. Too late, he realised he'd overdone it. His stomach churned and heaved, and he leaned forward and spewed a jet of water, coffee and regurgitated hamburger all over the floor.

Before he knew it there were tears streaming from his eyes. His stomach heaved once, twice more, but there was nothing left except bitter bile that hung in threads from his gasping mouth. He coughed and coughed, his throat ripped and dry. He needed to clean this mess up. He got to his feet, nearly fell over as the blood rushed from his head. He moved slowly, holding a dry towel to his face and neck, wiping off the sweat that was now making him feel icy cold. He went to the kitchen and prepared a mop and bucket and several rolls of kitchen tissue. He poured a glass of lemonade and drank it in three gulps, leaning over the sink incase it brought on more vomiting. His heart rate was slowly returning to normal. His stomach felt less nauseous. He felt like a prick. What the hell was he doing? Having a giant fit of self-pity? His dad would tan his ass if he knew. Well, maybe he wouldn't quite tan his ass, Jeff Tracy had never 'whupped' his kids, despite their teasing and general dad-baiting. But Jeff would be disappointed, and that was the last thing John wanted.

John went back to the gym and cleaned up the mess he'd made. When he was finished, the floor was spotless and smelled of alpine forests. He chanced a look at himself in the mirror. The man who looked back at him was lean to the point of thin, his hip bones noticeable over the waistband of his boxers. His face was pale, but fair enough, he'd just tossed his cookies. There was something about the expression he didn't like. He looked irritated, fretful. _Peevish_, his grandma might call it. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark. He turned away from himself in disgust and went to take a shower.

After John had showered and brushed his teeth thoroughly, he changed back into his uniform and sat at the communications console tuning his brain into the stream of messages drifting in and out. The voices raised and lulled him, like he was sitting in a small rowing boat bobbing up and down on a calm lake. There were emergency situations happening all over the globe and John always feared for the loss of life or limb, but if the situations were small and under control, the constant drone of voices had a meditative effect on him, lulling him as though he were just the other side of a room full of people.

He pictured himself on that lake, in that little boat, with a fishing rod and a picnic basket, and Karen sitting perched on a huge soft cushion at the prow, wearing a big floppy sun hat, just like in a corny movie about lovers in love. The sun was shining and the fish were jumping and there was nothing on God's green Earth to disturb them. He would catch a huge fish, and hold it up for Karen to admire and clap her hands to, and then he'd release it back into the depths, laughing as it flipped water at them with its tail before descending into the watery gloom. Then she'd lean forward and allow him to kiss her, and the boat would rock gently as they embraced.

He held those thoughts until he could actually feel the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck, taste the water in the air, feel the softness of her kiss. His muscles began relaxing one by one. With his feet up on the console and his head propped on one arm, John drifted closer and closer to the edge of consciousness until finally his breathing and heart rate slowed to the point where there was nothing left to do but fall asleep.

The constant hum and chatter of distant voices rose and fell, rose and fell. Thunderbird 5's environmental controls ticked over, making their endless small adjustments to air quality and conditioning. The space station hummed its steady hum, _all is well, all is well_. The console lights blinked on and off. The stars shone above, and the Earth carried Karen round and round below.

And the young blond man slept on, dreamlessly.

####

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

_Another pleasant valley Sunday. (Always good to get a Monkees reference in.) Chapter 13 of Shore Leave, and John is feeling lonesome. Aw...(I have the cure for that, Johnny, and I know where your room is...start oiling that telescope, baby)_

_Mega hello to JS as it's her birthday today, 14 Nov. Scorpio, just like John Tracy- a __sting in the tail but a cute way of doing it._

_Re: ffic net's ratings system. It's so funny how you can have your characters blaspheming and swearing and killing each other but you can't mention various parts of the anatomy in a loving act of intimacy. So I have to take out all the NC-17 references to ***** and *******, (not to mention ******* ***** and **** ***) and descriptions of bodily fluids. I mean, come on, we all know what's going on ;-) __Having said that, if anyone feels I'm pushing it too far (heh) please give me a heads up (heh again). Thank you! _

_There are no #### scene-breaks in this chapter because I figured it was all basically one scene centred around John's POV._

_Please do review if you can spare a minute or two, I've seen a lot of story traffic, which is fantastic, and I'd be thrilled if some people who hadn't reviewed before would let me know if they're enjoying the story or are just thinking "eeeeew!" ((^_^)) _

_Red Hardy, please give your new puppy a big loving hug from me, but tell him or her that Teobi is really missing his mommy's brilliant reviews! xx_

_**Disclaimers: TV-Verse, Rated M for sex and swearing, all Thunderbirds characters are someone else's, all Ocs are mine...ALL MINE!Cackle...cough. (Anyone got a Lube...er, I mean a Strepsil.)**_

_####_

John slept for over an hour. When he woke up his back was stiff from sitting in the chair. He got to his feet and stretched, rotating his neck and shoulders, feeling muscle and bone grinding together. God, he was hungry. He went back to the kitchen and decided to make himself a proper meal.

While he was stirring pasta, his phone started ringing in his hip holster. His heart started pounding even before he saw that it was her.

"Hello," he said, feeling the silly grin spreading over his face.

"Hi, baby. I hope you don't mind me calling. Tell me if it's not a good time." Her voice sounded low and husky. Vaguely he wondered if she'd been drinking.

"It's a good time, honey," he smiled. "I'm just fixing myself something to eat."

"Something nice?" She pronounced the word 'nice' as a long seductive drawl.

"Just pasta with meatballs."

"Mmm. Meatballs," she chuckled.

"You like meatballs, huh?"

"I like _your_ meatballs, John Tracy," she purred.

John laughed delightedly. Whether she'd been drinking or not, he didn't care. She was in a frisky mood and he loved it.

"Like 'em spicy, huh? Hot and spicy?" he teased, lowering his own voice to a soft murmur.

"Mmm. The hotter and spicier the better. Covered in thick, creamy sauce."

"Bet you can eat a whole one, can't you. Fit a whole one right in your mouth."

"You bet. I think I could fit two in, if I really tried."

"Now that's just plain greedy."

"I have a good appetite," she chuckled. "For meatballs."

"Honey, there are meatballs waiting for you, whenever you're ready." John gave the pasta sauce a quick stir, fished out a meatball and looked it over appraisingly.

"Sounds inviting. Save me a couple, won't you?"

"I got 'em right here. Keeping them warm for you."

Karen laughed. "You won't be able to eat your dinner now without thinking of me sucking on your meatballs."

"Sweetheart, I've been thinking about you sucking on my meatballs for four days, it's nothing new. So, what are you up to, lusty lady?"

"Oh, well...I'm eating chocolates from that gorgeous gift bag, which, oh my God, has really kept me going. Brandy, champagne, chocolates, cakes...I'll never have to go food shopping again."

"I like to keep my ladies happy," John grinned. He tasted the pasta sauce and added more pepper.

"_Ladies_? Watch it buster, those meatballs are mine, now."

"Baby, I swear I'll never dish up my meatballs to another woman again."

"That's better. So, um...whatcha doin' after dinner? I've got some crappy movie to watch, but I'd rather talk to you."

"Well," John said, struggling to strain pasta with one hand while he held the phone to his ear with the other, "I was thinking, we need to get on the webcam and make visual contact. You know." Boiling steam rose from the strainer and scorched his face. "Ow, shit..." he muttered. "Burnt myself."

She laughed. "See? I'm not the only lousy cook."

"It was steam, off the pasta. Don't worry, I'm in total control of this situation. Anyway, what do you say? Want to hook up later? Like a date?" John strained the pasta and poured it all onto a plate. There was so much of it that it spilled over onto the counter. He picked up the overspill and chewed on it while he stirred the meatballs a couple more times then heaped them on top of the pasta mountain. There was no way he could carry the overflowing mess to the table, so he just stood at the counter and started eating with a spoon, scooping food from the edges of the plate where it was less hot.

"Sure, like I'm going to say no? You can show me your meatballs."

John coughed abruptly, spitting a lump of pasta onto the counter. "Honey, warn me when you're going to say something like that, I nearly choked!"

Karen giggled. "Well, what's a webcam for, sweetie? You just give me a couple of hours to get ready and I'll surprise you."

"A couple of hours? What, are you gonna hire a band?"

"No, I'm just going to get all dolled up for you. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Dolled up, huh. You mean like in a negligee and stuff?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm a little short on negligees. I was thinking maybe just body lotion and a big smile."

John choked again. "Holy shit."

"Mmm. Maybe I can put on a little show for you."

"It doesn't take a couple of hours to put on body lotion," John said, pushing his food around to get the sauce evenly distributed over the pasta. "Can't we do it now? Or um...in half an hour?" He'd need to change out of his uniform, and fast. Or maybe just take it off altogether. Put on a little show of his own.

"Eager little bunny, aren't you?" she chuckled.

"Honey, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."

"Oh, my." Her voice went all breathless. "I wish I was there to take care of it."

"Jesus, Karen..." John was eating without really tasting anything now. He shovelled the food down his throat, needing to fill the rapidly expanding gap inside him.

"John, the noise of you eating in my ear is really gross."

"I'm going as fast as I can," he replied through a slushy mouthful of meatballs.

"Yes, I can tell. It sounds like a hog rooting through mud. Shall we set a time for our date and meet up then? I don't want to upset your dinner. I know how obsessed you are with eating right."

"Okay, baby, one hour from now. Is that good for you? One hour."

"One hour it is. You've got all my details, haven't you?"

"I have. I can set up a connection no problem. All you have to do is make sure your camera's on."

"And my clothes are off." She snorted with suppressed laughter.

"Oh God, yes. Clothes most definitely off." He blinked, shook his head at the image his mind was already conjuring up. This day had definitely taken a turn for the better!

"Okay then, baby. I'll see you in one hour, okay? One hour. And don't forget, I want to see those meatballs." She gave another soft, throaty laugh and hung up the phone.

John exhaled the breath he'd been holding. His ear was burning- whether from the phone or her dirty talk, he wasn't sure. All he knew was, he had a date in one hour and he'd better make sure he was ready for it.

He scooped food into his mouth until he couldn't bear to eat any more. Not one to waste anything, he scraped what was left into a tupperware bowl, snapped the lid on and put it in the fridge. Then (after cleaning up) he went back to the communications console just to check that he hadn't missed anything. It was quite unusual for it to be this quiet, especially considering the size of the planet, but it did seem as though the world's emergency services were coping well enough without the aid of International Rescue so far. Which was a good thing, he decided. Especially now that he had a date in one hour. Well, fifty minutes to be precise.

John was about to head back to the living quarters when a signal started bleeping. His heart lurched, but then he realised it was the signal that said Base was calling. Probably just dad checking in. He went back to the console and switched the monitor on. His father's face appeared instantly. Jeff was sitting at his desk looking relaxed and calm.

"Hello, John," he said in his smooth, deep voice. "Is everything okay up there?"

"Why, sure dad," John answered. "Very quiet, in fact."

"Guess I ought to 'touch wood', as they say. Trouble usually comes in threes. As soon as we get one call we'll get another half dozen hot on its trail."

"Er, yes dad."

"Well, son, the other thing I wanted to say was, I'm sorry I didn't really get the chance to see much of you this time. I didn't ask you about your vacation as much as I would have liked. You were here there and everywhere after you got back, and you know how hard it is to get a word in edgeways in this house."

"I know, dad. I'm sorry." John shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Oh no, John, there's nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted you to know that I was glad to have you back and it would have been nice to have spent a little more time with you before you went up to the satellite, but there you go. I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles."

_The cookie crumbles? What was his dad talking about? _"Yeah, I guess so."

Jeff laughed heartily, startling John somewhat. "Talkative as usual, John. Getting conversation out of you is like squeezing blood out of a stone."

Oh God, was it conversation his father wanted? "I thought you were just checking in," John said without thinking.

"Well, yes, I am checking in, John. But I haven't seen you for weeks, not really. I was starting to forget what you looked like." Jeff gave a great belly laugh again.

"Gee, thanks dad." _Well, then maybe you should send Scott or someone else up here for a change._

"Oh, John, I'm only joshing you," Jeff grinned, sounding unnervingly like Alan. "So tell me about your vacation. Was The Walburn up to standard? They still have that doorman, Arnold. Right?"

John sighed, sat down in the chair. Dad had some internal radar that told him exactly when it was the wrong time to engage one of his sons in 'conversation', and he did it all the time. He figured he could spare his dad twenty minutes and then he'd have to make up some excuse. The he saw the quarter-full brandy glass, just at the corner of the screen. He chewed the inside of his lip. What was it Scott had said? _Wait until he's had his after dinner brandy_. Well, his father was on the brandy now, and he seemed chatty and in good spirits. John looked at his watch. He still had forty five minutes.

Jeff was still talking about the standard of excellence and past members of staff at The Walburn, although to John's relief he hadn't yet mentioned the bath in the executive suite or how many other Tracys had partaken of its unique features. John cleared his throat, waiting for a gap in his father's monologue. When it finally came, he grasped the mettle with both hands.

"Dad, I met someone," he interjected.

"And then of course, there was George Medley. He worked there in '42. He was a wonderful character. I remember..."

"Dad." John tried again. "I _met_ someone."

"Hmm? I beg pardon?" Jeff blinked. "Did you say something, John?"

"Yes, dad. I said I met someone. I met a woman." John felt his throat tighten and go dry. Pull yourself together, Tracy, he told himself, not for the first time. He stared at his father's image, determined not to avert his eyes in any way.

"Oh?" Jeff said, at long last.

John swallowed. God, was that all he was going to say? "_Oh"_? What was the appropriate response to that? "Yes, I met a woman," he repeated, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "I really like her, too. This isn't just a casual fling. I'm serious about her."

Jeff's eyes widened, then narrowed. "John, in all the years I've known you, you've never had a 'casual fling'. Or have you?"

_In all the years...? I'm your son, for God's sake, not a business associate_.

"Dad. Really, that's kind of my business. But I'm serious about this one. Really."

Jeff picked up his brandy glass and took a deep gulp of the brown liquid. John wished he had some too, but Thunderbird 5 was strictly an alcohol-free zone. Silently he watched his father drink.

"So, who is she? Come on, spill the beans." Jeff put his glass down and settled back in his chair, watching John expectantly with his shrewd blue/grey eyes.

It was no use, John needed to clear his throat. He coughed, cursing himself for displaying such a sign of insecurity and nerves. "Well, dad, her name is Karen. She works in a public library. I met her purely by chance when I went in to look for some books. We hit it off straight away. I ended up spending the rest of my vacation with her. She's not like anyone I've ever met. I really like her. I want to keep seeing her." _I'm _going_ to keep seeing her._

His father remained enigmatically silent for a few moments. Then John heard the older man audibly draw in a deep breath. "I see. And what else do you know about her?"

"She's a normal, regular girl with a normal, regular job and a normal, regular apartment. That's what I know about her, and that's why I like her. She's so darned normal."

"Normal, eh. And you know all this in, what. How many days?"

"Ah...two. And a half." John felt the urge to swivel the seat like a chastened schoolboy.

"All right, John. Well, you don't need me to tell you that two and a half days isn't really long enough to get to know someone. However, when I first met your mother the feeling was quite instantaneous- on both sides, as I discovered later. So, in that respect, I understand that you're probably feeling quite confused at the moment."

John blinked. "Ah...yes, sir. That's exactly how I'm feeling."

"Are you in touch with her now?"

"Um, yes, we talk on the phone."

"And it goes without saying that she knows nothing about our organization."

"No, sir. Not a peep."

"Good, good. That's one thing she must never find out. You need to get to know her a lot better than this if she's ever going to know _anything_ about International Rescue. Of course, I shouldn't have to tell you that, John."

"No, sir. I know that. She doesn't know a thing."

"Well." Jeff toyed with the brandy glass. "This is a turn-up for the books."

"Really though, dad," John said, "I'm almost twenty six years old. It was inevitable that I'd meet someone someday."

"Yes, I realise that, John. And to be honest, I always thought that either you or Virgil would settle down first. Of course, at the moment it looks as though Alan's going to beat you all to it..."

John heard a noise then. Alan's voice, raised and complaining off screen. "_Daa-aad_!"

John frowned at his father. "Is that Alan? Has he been there listening all this time?"

Alan hove into view. He was wearing an eye wateringly loud orange, green and blue patterned shirt and a pair of canary yellow jeans with his wrist watch hanging from a belt loop. "Hey, John," he grinned cheekily.

"Well, look who it is. Joseph and His Unbelievably Hideous Dreamcoat."

"Hey, this shirt is Felix Fanshaw. Isn't he your favourite designer?"

John shot his baby brother a supercilious look down the length of his nose. "Felix Fanshaw went through a rotten divorce eight years ago. That thing you're wearing looks to me like a product of the months he spent living alone at the the bottom of a whiskey bottle answering only to the name Bernice."

"Well, one of the many advantages of being young and hip is that I can easily carry off this look," Alan replied smugly. "So, anyway, John, from what I've heard, it sounds to me like you've gotten yourself quite a catch."

"Dad," said John. "You should have told me that Alan was listening."

"John," his father said in a slow, deliberate tone, pouring himself another slug of brandy, "I'm assuming that since you've told me, you would've already told all the others. I'm assuming also that you probably already asked Scott for his advice before you even dared to broach the subject with me." When Jeff looked back up at the screen, John saw a definite twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know. You think I didn't notice something was afoot?"

"You guessed?" John asked, knowing that he should never have underestimated Jefferson Tracy. You didn't get to be a world class businessman without a certain amount of intuition. And he was their father, after all.

"Not exactly. I thought maybe you'd lost a small fortune at the Casino or something and didn't quite know how to tell me I'd gone bankrupt." Jeff laughed out loud, a hearty chortle. "I didn't expect you to tell me that you'd fallen in love."

John swallowed. "Who said that I was in love?"

"Son, I saw it the minute you started talking about her. You got a look in your eye that reminded me so much of your mother when we first met. Like someone had just handed you the world on a plate and a jar of jellybeans."

John pulled a face. How much brandy had his father actually imbibed already?

"Well, I think it's great that Johnnyboy's found someone to love," grinned Alan. "Maybe it'll stop him from being such a grouch."

"Hey, little Miss Diva," scowled John. "Tell me again why you wear your wrist watch hanging from your belt loop. I notice it's a pretty _small_ watch."

"Don't you know anything about what's in fashion?" Alan laughed, insolently flicking his watch up and down. "Besides, girls look at my watch, they look at my..."

"Alan, that's enough, thank you," said Jeff, jovially. "Why don't you and Gordon go down to the games room or something."

"Gordon's already in the games room. He and Scott are playing 'who's got the biggest weapon', as usual."

"Well, we already know who's got the smallest," quipped John.

"And we know whose has only recently started seeing the light of day," Alan retorted.

"Boys, that's enough now. You're giving me a headache. Alan, go and find something to do. Let me talk to John for a moment."

Alan knew not to push it. "Yes, father," he conceded. He winked at John one last time before he turned and left the room, no doubt off to the games room to harangue his other brothers.

"All right, John. The coast is clear," said Jeff, paying his third son his full attention. "Now listen to me, and listen good. Don't interrupt me until I'm done. What feels like love at first is actually infatuation, as I'm sure you know. It's easy to confuse the two, so I don't blame you for thinking you're in love. You feel like you're walking on air, and just the mere sight of them or sound of their voice is enough to make you jump for joy and forget everything else. But don't lose your head. International Rescue must always come first. Countless lives depend on us, and the space monitor is usually the first person they contact when they need our help. I'm not trying to deny your feelings or tell you that they're not important because I can see quite clearly that you've met someone that means possibly as much to you as your beautiful mother meant to me. But remember, always, that your first duty is to International Rescue. Don't lose your head, John. Promise me you won't lose your head."

"I won't lose my head, father. I promise. You know how dedicated I am to our organization. I'd never let anything jeopardise that. I'm a Tracy. International Rescue is in my blood."

"I know that, John. I just needed to hear it." Jeff raised his brandy glass. "Well, son, I'm sorry that you can't join me in a toast right at this moment, but when you're back on Earth, we'll have a drink together, man to man. I think it's wonderful news. I really do."

"You do?" John's eyes widened. "Well, gee, thanks, dad! That's great! Wow. That was actually a lot easier than I'd thought!"

"Hmm," Jeff smiled. He lifted his glass. "Of course, a little libation always helps. I must remember to thank Scott for the suggestion." He tipped his head towards the screen and took another hefty swallow of brandy.

John's mouth hung open. "Scott?"

"Yes. He's the one who thought a little alcoholic respite after dinner would benefit me greatly after the shaky week I've had dealing with the stock markets. He also thought it might be a good idea to catch up with you while it was quiet. I must say, I'm very glad I followed his advice."

"_Scott set us up_?"

"Well, I'm not sure that he set us up, exactly. But at least it's out of the way now. Eh?"

"I'll kill him!" John was fuming. He quite clearly told Scott he needed time!

"Now, why would you want to go and do that. If you hadn't told me, you'd only have stewed over it. Trust me, I've been exactly where you are. So you've told me now, and there's no problem. I'm happy for you. Most of all, I'm proud of you. All of you. Including Scott."

"Scott is toast," John muttered.

"Scott also knows you all far better than you know yourselves," Jeff said good-naturedly. "He wouldn't have made the suggestion if he hadn't thought it through first."

John sighed, relaxed his shoulders. "I guess." He chanced a look at the time. He still had fifteen minutes or thereabouts. Setting up a communication link to Karen's computer wouldn't be too much of a problem, although the security settings would have to be thought through. There should be absolutely nil chance of anyone ever being able to trace any contact of his back to Thunderbird 5 or Tracy Island. He could do it, but he also wanted to shower and get nicely dressed.

"Uh, dad?" He chanced. "Speaking of Karen, I ah, promised I'd call her kind of...well, now-ish. Would it be okay if I did that?"

"Secure channel?"

"Of course. I've been using my cellphone, which is untraceable anyway, but I wanted to set up an audiovisual channel via my PC. I can do it but I just need some time to get everything set up."

"John, make sure it's secure. I mean that. I'm being deadly serious now." The flash of warning in Jeff's eyes left his third son in no doubt that there would be hell to pay if anything went wrong.

"Safe as houses, dad. I promise."

"All right, John. Well, you go and do what you have to. Just be careful. _Don't _get carried away."

"No, sir, I won't."

"Well, then, all the best to your lady. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, barring any emergency."

"Okay dad. Thanks for understanding, you know. I thought it'd be a nightmare telling you, but actually it's a weight off my mind."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Okay, John. I'll sign out now. Have a good night, son."

"You too, dad. Talk tomorrow." John's booted feet were already tapping impatiently on the floor.

Once Jeff's image had safely disappeared from the screen. John leapt immediately from the chair and ran to the living quarters, cursing Scott all the way, but also hugely relieved that his biggest fear had not come to pass. He stripped and showered quickly, leaving his uniform hanging neatly over the towel rail. He shampooed his hair, brushed his teeth. He ran a hand over his jaw, thinking he could get away with not shaving for now. His beard, such as it was, didn't grow nearly as quickly as Scott's or Virgil's, and the first two or three day's growth was usually just a fine dusting of golden hairs that were only really visible when caught by the sun. He hurried back to his bedroom and pulled on a blue denim shirt and cream trousers. He combed his damp hair back and splashed on cologne. He even smoothed down his eyebrows and checked his fingernails. He applied some moisturising cream to his face and lips to combat the drying effects of Thunderbird 5's air conditioning. Finally he checked his reflection in the mirror, rubbed a bit of excess cream from the corner of his nose, inspected his teeth. He decided he looked okay- he didn't think Karen would be disappointed.

He sat at his computer, checked the location behind him for any indication that he was on a space station or a member of the most secretive organization in the world. _No mugs with the IR logo on_ _them_, he thought with a smile. _No posters of Scott standing heroically at the hatch of Thunderbird_ _One_. Then he set about activating codes and passwords and firewalls. He didn't think Karen herself would ever try to trace his messages, but a stranger in a computer repair shop might. He would reroute any snoopers to a virus that would shut down the entire computer and render it inoperable forever. He would also put a failsafe in place that would terminate his link a split second before any emergency call came through so that Karen would never hear the words International Rescue.

The whole process took him a little longer than he thought, and by the time he was ready to connect with the object of his desire, he was already nearly fifteen minutes late. He ran both hands through his hair and took a deep breath. He keyed in several passwords in a specific sequence, then located her web provider and bypassed it. He was now using Thunderbird 5's own signal to get through to her. He tapped in her details and sat back, waiting.

Her voice came through first. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby, it's me. Sorry I'm a little late."

"Heyyy, John!" The relief in her voice was obvious. "I thought you'd forgotten!"

"Forgotten our date? Are you kidding? Just had a little family business to take care of. Anyway, everything's set up. Can you switch on your camera?"

"Sure, hold on."

The screen flickered, and then there she was, her face a little too close to the screen, her bright features gazing adoringly at him. "Hey there, handsome," she grinned. "Wow, look at you, you look good enough to eat." Her eyes flickered over him, drinking him in. He did the same to her.

"So do you, baby. You look fantastic. What have you done with your hair?"

"You noticed?" Karen sounded incredulous but pleased, running her hands self-consciously through her hair. "I just did a home colour, nothing crazy."

"It's beautiful, like the colour of flames. You're hot, kiddo. Boy, if I was there now..."

"Mmmm, you don't have to tell me. God, I miss you. Look at you. You're incredible, you know that? I just want to kiss you all over. And I mean, _all_ over."

"I've still got that mark on my shoulder," John grinned, pulling his collar aside to show her the bruise that was only now beginning to fade. "Scott was very impressed."

"Was he. I hope you didn't do that macho guy thing of telling him all the gory details."

"No, baby. Some things are definitely best kept secret. Anyway, I didn't come on this date to talk about other men. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, just work and shit, boring stuff like that. Same as you, I guess." Karen was starting to stroke her collarbone, her fingers gliding just inside the neck of her silk blouse. "Want to see my breasts?"

John's eyes opened wide. Then he laughed. "Aw, no. Why don't you just tell me more about work?" He watched transfixed as she began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing a wisp of black lace.

"They've missed you," Karen said in a soft voice, peeling her blouse off one shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. Her skin gleamed in the muted light of her bedroom. John imagined the scent of her body lotion, maybe vanilla or caramel cream. His **** swelled, eager for some action.

Karen slowly peeled the blouse from both shoulders and let it fall. The swell of her breasts in their lacy restraints made him feel faint with longing. He was so desperate to touch her that he put his hand on the screen.

Karen began stroking her breasts, hooking her fingers into the lacy material. "You ready?" she teased.

John nodded, mutely.

She pulled the bra away from her breasts, exposing her pale nipples, which stood out like little bullets pointing towards him. Then she reached behind and unhooked her bra and deftly removed it, flinging it aside. "Ta daah," she said, jiggling those luscious globes up and down.

John was aware of the desperate sigh of longing that escaped from his lips. He felt his eyes go glassy, such was the single mindedness of his one solitary thought right at that moment. He unzipped his flies and wriggled his fingers inside. Jesus, he was about to jerk himself off to a webcam image of a woman removing her clothes.

Thank God he was in love with her!

Karen stood up, unfastened her skirt. It slid down over her hips and thighs, revealing matching black lace panties. "You like?" she asked seductively.

"Oh, yeah." John's fingers stroked gently up and down.

"Want more?" She swivelled her hips at the screen.

"God, yes."

Karen laughed. "Don't be impatient, you naughty boy." She disappeared off screen for a moment, then returned holding something in her right hand. "look at what_ I _got," she purred, wagging the item at him. It was a male member shaped pink vibrator, with various little attachments. She switched it on. It began visibly vibrating.

John nearly came in his hand. He didn't know where to look- at her gleaming, bouncing breasts, or at the shiny vibrator that she was now rubbing over her stomach, making her abdominal muscles contract.

"Ooh, baby, this feels goood," she moaned. She dragged the head of the vibrator up over her breasts, teasing her hard little nipples. "Oh, John, baby, kiss my tits," she purred.

John's mouth fell open. _Oh, sweet baby James_, he thought through a haze of lust. His hand began stroking harder, occasionally squeezing himself to stop himself coming too soon.

Karen moved back towards the bed. She lay down over the edge, spreading her legs wide, giving John a clear view of her lacy gusset. She stroked the whirring vibrator along her inner thighs, twitching at the ticklish sensations. She lifted her head and gazed at him through her smoky eyes. "You like this, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," John whispered.

She continued tickling her thighs with the vibrator while her other hand moved to her crotch. She began stroking herself through the material of her panties, moaning with pleasure, her full lips parted and glistening. "Oh, John, baby, I want you so _bad_," she sighed.

John leaned as close to the screen as he could get. His hand pumped faster. "Karen," he uttered, dazed.

"I know, baby, I know," she murmured. She pulled her panties hastily down her legs and kicked them away, and revealed herself fully to him, showing him just how aroused she was. The head of the vibrator hovered enticingly. "You want me, baby? Hmm?"

"Oh, God, yes, you don't know how much..." John half stood up from the chair, leaned his elbow on the desk, got a better grip on himself, pumped faster and faster. He didn't know how much more of this torture he could bear.

"Want to **** me, John?" Karen said silkily.

"Please, Karen..." He was on a hair trigger now, his mind spinning with lust. He watched eagerly as she lay back on the bed and plunged the vibrator right up inside, her legs spread as wide as they would go.

She arched her back, moaning loudly as the vibrating sex toy hit all her erogenous zones at once. She manipulated it deftly, writhing on the bed, biting the pad of her thumb to keep from screaming. "John, oh God, John..."

John could barely stay on his feet. He leaned right over the desk, his eyes glued to the screen. He pumped himself once, twice more, and then he climaxed hard, right under the desk and all over his hand. He kept pumping, spots dancing in front of his eyes, his gaping mouth dragging in air, grunting low in his throat. "Fuck," he uttered, "_fuck._.."

Finally, he fell back, spent, into the chair. He blinked rapidly, bringing his eyes back into focus. Karen was still pleasuring herself with the vibrator and he continued to watch avidly until she came with a howl of pleasure, bucking wildly on the bed, her vibrant hair whipping across her shiny cheeks.

John touched the screen, desperate to be with her as she calmed down from her explosive climax. He needed to be there, to hold her in his arms after the storm, to whisper in her ear that it was all right. He watched her lying there on her own, breathing heavily, her thighs wet and trembling. He watched her close her legs, covering up the most vulnerable areas of her body. He listened to her quiet gasps subsiding, her smoky eyes still unfocussed.

_She needed him to be there._

"Karen," he said softly. "Karen, I love you."

Karen lifted her head and grinned. She looked exhausted. "I love you too, baby. I love you so much."

John put himself back inside his pants and zipped himself up. He felt satiated, yet unfulfilled. This was good, but not enough. They would not spend the night laughing and talking in each other's arms. He couldn't smell her sweat, her musky odour, or nuzzle his lips against her neck. Her silky skin and thick, tangled hair were out of reach. He kept his fingers on the screen, his eyes on her slender, naked form curled up on the bed. She looked so precious and fragile and vulnerable, so small and far away.

"_I love you_," he whispered, so low that he could barely hear himself.

####

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14

_This Chapter is definitely for you, **Sam1,** for just giving me that giant kick up the butt while I was farting about looking at pictures of Robert Downey Jr. on another website 8-)_

_And to everyone else who's sticking with this story, thanks for sticking with this story! So here goes with Chapter 14..._

**_Disclaimers as usual: TV-Verse, Rated M for sex and swearing. All Thunderbirds characters belong to someone else, all OCs belong to me._**

####

John's webcam dates with Karen became a regular fixture over the ensuing days. They went from once a night to twice a day- he'd call her briefly in the morning before she went to work just to connect with her smiling face and say hello. The sight of her sunny features first thing every morning set John up for the rest of the day and made the loneliness of space that little bit more bearable. Not that he'd ever had a problem with being alone, but it was nice to know that there was at least one other person in this vast, crazy, unpredictable universe that he could rely on to make him feel ten feet tall and a million dollars in the bank. He would even help her choose what clothes to wear, loving the way she pranced around her bedroom modelling everything from the oldest skirt she owned to the most stretched and baggy sweaters. He loved her in anything. She looked funny in a Mickey Mouse T-Shirt and silly in a midriff baring sequinned crop top that was obviously designed for girls at least ten years younger, and he made sure he gave witty and droll comments about each outfit until she was doubled over with laughter, because he loved more than anything to watch her laugh and to know that he was the cause of it.

She had the weirdest, most compelling laugh. It was almost as though she started out being embarrassed to laugh, but then gave in to a sort of strangled howl crossed with a donkey bray that came straight from the depths of her diaphragm. John had no idea why he loved it so much but he did. It was nowhere near tinkling and ladylike, as was Tin-Tin's. It was guttural and slightly self-conscious but unstoppable. It doubled her over. It creased her up. It made her gasp for breath. It was like the end of an incredible orgasm, the way she finally straightened up with her face all red and glowing and her hair a complete mess. If she was laughing more than was necessary just to make him feel better, he didn't care. He loved her, and he loved everything she did to make him feel that way.

Their evening sessions were of course, much different. They would indulge in the closest thing to sex with each other that they could manage. They would lie naked on their respective beds and he would tell her what to do with her own hands while she would tell him what to do with his. Sometimes it resulted in peals of embarrassed laughter from her as she commented on the absurdity of it all, but her laughter would soon dissolve into low, rapturous moans when it became clear to her that even though he was a million miles away he was still taking charge, still watching her with those analytical eyes, guiding her fingers deeper into herself, teaching her things about her own body that she hadn't ever been aware of until she met him.

For John's part, this nightly act of mutual hand pleasuring felt like the only thing that was keeping him sane. If he did it while looking at her, sliding his gaze slowly over the rounded contours of her beautiful breasts, drinking in every detail of her obliging body as she presented herself to him like the most prized possession in the world, it felt less like 'spanking the monkey' as Gordon called it, and more like an act of shared love.

At least, that's what he told himself, night after night, as he lay there panting with exertion, his fingers and stomach covered in the sticky residue of yet another self-induced climax.

####

On the fourth day, at around 2pm Pacific Time, International Rescue received a distress call completely out of the blue. John was sitting at his workstation, idly swivelling his Rotate-A-Chair (as Scott called it) and mapping the co-ordinates of a far away star cluster he wanted to call Aletheia. He was humming away to himself, lost in his own little world of Greek mythology, when the ear jangling sound of the Emergency Alarm snapped him bolt upright. He abandoned his work immediately and leapt to his feet. He crossed quickly to the communications console and picked up his silver microphone, holding it close to his lips, speaking calmly and authoritatively to the sobbing, panicking man on the other end.

"This is International Rescue Space Station, receiving you loud and clear. How can we help?"

It turned out that one of the stands at a cricket stadium in South Africa had suddenly and catastrophically collapsed after several hundred ticketless fans had found their way onto the roof. There were countless casualties trapped under twisted metal and it wasn't looking good. John relayed all the information to Jeff at Base, and then did what he always did in situations that were as bad as this one. He prayed. Not to any conventional God as such, but to the big blue planet that revolved silently below him and to any deity that might be listening in at that time. _Don't let there be any_ _fatalities_, he would whisper silently, even when he knew it was inevitable. _And keep my brothers_ _safe, or there'll be trouble, and its colour will be lilac. Amen._

It was a nasty assignment, this one. Through Scott and Virgil he learned that the cricket stand had folded up like a metal accordion and had indeed caused several gory fatalities. John hated listening to details like these, especially when he was powerless to lend physical assistance. The strain was audible in his brothers' voices- Gordon was terse and abrupt, Virgil had turned almost monosyllabic and Scott, in brief moments when he could speak candidly to John, sounded resigned to the fact that they were going to be recovering bodies in more than one piece. John imagined their blue uniforms stained a deep purple colour with the blood of disembowelled and decapitated victims. It was hard not to picture such gruesome images from all the shouting and sirens he could hear in the background.

His brothers were on the scene for several hours. They concentrated solely on the living, recovering many, many trapped and injured survivors, leaving the corpses to the police and ambulance services out of necessity. By the time they began heading back to Base, everyone's mood had turned sombre. Virgil hardly spoke at all now. John knew he would be playing melancholy numbers on the piano tonight. Scott was brisk and businesslike but later on he'd pour a large whisky and down it in one gulp- then he'd probably take the rest of the bottle, go and sit somewhere near Virgil, and start brooding heavily on the day's tragic events. Alan would seek solace in Tin-Tin's considerable charms. Gordon would possibly swim laps to get the stench of death out of his thick auburn hair, or possibly go to the games room and shoot the crap out of something. Jeff would look at his sons and thank the Lord they were all home safe once more. Grandma would bake something hot and sweet, and dish it up in respectful silence, watching over them while they ate. It was always quiet at Base after a day like this.

John's mood was no different. After the debriefing session he headed to the bathroom to shower thoroughly, sluicing off the fear-induced film of sweat that made his body feel sticky and clammy. He bowed his head under the strong jets of warm water and let it rain down on him, battering the back of his neck, his hair hanging down like a blond curtain in front of his eyes. People had woken up this morning who would never wake up again. Death was that quick, that random, that instantaneous. People would be picking up the pieces of that tragedy for days, _weeks_, and the survivors and families of the dead would live with it for the rest of their lives. John prayed again, a soft murmur that sprayed water from his lips.

All he wanted to do now was talk to Karen.

Karen could see right away that John was in a melancholy mood. He had changed into jeans and a red sweater and was lying on the bed with the computer on the side table so he could see her without lifting his head. He smiled and assured her that he was okay, he'd just had a long day dealing with some situations that had been out of his control. _Deadlines and things like that_, he told her. He was tired, no, he was exhausted. Worrying about his brothers always took it out of him. Of course, he couldn't tell her that. _Busy day at the office_. That would have to do.

She offered to 'relieve' him of some of his stress, but he wasn't in the mood. She looked somewhat surprised until he reassured her that he was more than happy just to look at her and talk to her. _I'm_ _tired all over_, he told her with a knowing smile. _If you know what I mean._

She was sympathetic to his plight. To be truthful she wasn't feeling all that energetic either. She'd had another silly day at work, this time a Pensioners' Book Club. _Honestly, I don't know who are_ _worse, _she told him_, the children or the senior brigade. They all need the toilet every five minutes and they're always wandering off and getting lost._

John laughed, y_ou see, you're relieving my stress already, and I didn't even have to take my clothes_ _off._

He watched her sip from a glass of red wine. Only one glass, she promised him. _You'd be proud of_ _me, John Tracy,_ she said. She wasn't drinking like a fish, and she was getting her five daily portions of fruit. Yes, she felt much better for it, more energetic. No, she wasn't starving herself, she didn't think she'd lost weight. Yes, work was a bitch for the measly amount of money that she got paid. Those troublesome teenagers who kept smoking weed in the toilets plus Teela Murphy's lazy nephews were putting her off ever having kids altogether. No, she hadn't taken advantage of Fredericks' offer of a limousine taxi service yet, and no, she hadn't dined out at The Walburn, she was more of a home delivery pizza girl. He should know that.

She asked him if _he'd_ lost weight. She thought his face looked gaunt. Tan fading already? Not sleeping well? Cold coming on?

He shook his head. Just tired. Lonely. _Missing you._

He didn't sleep well that night. He kept thinking of the stark contrasts between life and death, love and hate, fear and courage, innocence and guilt. Karen had mentioned that she'd seen on the news that a stadium had collapsed in South Africa and thirty two people had died. They had shown footage of bodies being carried out of the debris. _Thirty two people gone from the face of the Earth_, she had said. _Thirty two people that wouldn't be coming home_. One of the reporters had said International Rescue had been called, but there was no news footage of them, just local rescue workers and tired looking paramedics with dirty, sad and sweat-streaked faces. She couldn't watch the whole thing. It had made her too upset. But she thought that all the rescue workers were very brave, and she had hoped that International Rescue would be able to help. _After all, they perform miracles_, she had said. _Everybody knows that. They're heroes._

_####_

The days passed. As Jeff had morbidly predicted, trouble did indeed come in threes. John's next call was from a family whose two young children, a boy and a girl, had become trapped in a well when it fell in on top of them. Scott, Virgil and Gordon had spent a couple of hours extricating the wailing and terrified youngsters, soothing their pain and cleaning up their cuts and scrapes. Afterwards, Scott had stayed behind to give the entire family a lecture on making sure there were no more disused wells on their property and receiving their humble reassurances that they'd keep a closer eye on their offspring in future. It may have sounded harsh to the parents' ears, but John knew exactly why Scott was so anxious about those children's safety. It was because kids like that reminded him only too well of Gordon and Alan at that age, the way they would run off into the woods to build dens, not telling a soul where they were going. Scott would never grow out of his role as chief protector of all the Tracy boys- not even when he was old and gnarled and bent over with age. He'd still have one wily blue eye fixed firmly on his younger siblings. Even if it was a glass eye by then.

After that assignment, two days later a river in the south of England burst its banks after a week of relentlessly heavy downpours. Virgil and Alan in Thunderbird 2 spent a whole afternoon winching up people who were stranded on the roofs of houses or trapped in cars that were floating down the waterlogged streets, while Scott and Gordon manned a small motorised dinghy and pulled people out of windows and trees. Gordon had proclaimed in the debriefing session that it had almost been fun, to which Jeff had reprimanded him quite sternly for making light of a terrible situation. But even Scott had to admit that the resilience and humour demonstrated by most of the town's evacuees had lent the whole operation a kind of adventurous Boy's Own feel. The amount of good natured ribbing they'd received about the young women of the town being more than willing to allow themselves to be bundled into their tiny boat had lightened the mood of the day considerably and helped a little bit to overcome the sense of failure they'd endured from the South African stadium tragedy.

After each long day was over, a tired yet restless John would link up with Karen and touch his fingers to the screen as she held her face close, calming his soul with whispered words of love. If only she knew how much she was helping him. If only she knew exactly what his days entailed. The constant nerves-on-edge feeling as his brothers fought against the odds to save lives. If only she knew how much he longed to be away from all this, if only for a short while, to lie in her arms and breathe her air, share her space, her bed, her body, her dreams. The physical ache was nothing compared to the ache in his soul, the part of him that had never really belonged to anyone else until now.

_If only she knew._

_####_

Three days later, John awoke feeling like a little boy on Christmas morning. Today was the day of the supply run. He had never looked forward to it quite as much as this. Not only was it a chance to see other human beings, it also meant that his tour of duty was already half over for the month. Already he was looking forward to being back on Tracy Island, soaking up the sunshine, swimming in the pool and being able to have a drink with his dinner like a normal, civilised man instead of this enforced abstinence and endless glasses of grapefruit juice. He was going to beg his father for a day off. Just one. He'd get down on his knees if he had to. Just one day to go and see her- one day for him and Karen to exhaust themselves between the sheets, to taste and to hold and to feel and to _be_. That's all he'd ask for. _One freaking day, dad. How can that possibly_ _hurt?_

He took his breakfast into the bedroom to share the morning's rituals with her, teasing her about a pair of tummy-control pants that she had decided to try out. He sat on the end of his bed in his T-Shirt and boxer shorts, shovelling Sugar Puffs into his mouth and watching her parade around the room. _For Pete's sake, those are the most hideous things I've ever seen_, he told her, pointing at her with his cereal spoon. _What the heck do you need that sort of scaffolding for, anyway? There's nothing on you, your stomach goes in, if anything._

She laughed, thrusting her hips out. But they're sexy, she pouted. Look how they come up almost to my tits. They push it all in and up. She winked at him. _I bet you'd like to push it all in_, she grinned, running a hand smoothly over her own buttocks, giving them a light slap for his obvious benefit.

Afterwards he showered, lathering himself up, shampooing his hair. As the water steamed and cascaded around him he took hold of himself firmly and masturbated hard, his brain filled with the image of her in those hideous great pants that did nothing for him at all. His sudden ejaculation was fierce and knocked the breath out of him. He stood with one hand braced against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest, his aching manhood twitching in his fingers, watching wasted semen trickle down the drain.

After that pleasant little interlude, he pulled his uniform on, adjusted the lilac sash on his left shoulder and checked his reflection in the mirror. Maybe his tan was fading. Maybe his eyes were a little hollowed out at the moment. Maybe his hair was getting a little long in front, maybe the skin was stretched a little too tightly over his cheekbones. He'd have to start hitting the sunbed, although God help him if he ever became as vain as Alan who practically lived in the thing.

Thunderbird 3 arrived at 11am, bringing Scott and Brains with her. John helped with the unloading of the many varied supply containers and waited until they were all safely sealed inside the space station before suddenly moving forward and embracing both men in such an uncharacteristically warm display of affection that Brains went bright red from the bottom of his neck to the roots of his hair and the tips of his ears. Then they all stood back and took a good look at each other.

"John, you look like a fucking ghost," was Scott's observation.

"You don't look all that hot yourself," replied John. "Where'd you get the decorations? Or shouldn't I ask."

By decorations, John meant the bruise on Scott's left cheekbone and the fading scratch mark across his forehead.

Scott frowned. "You know the week we've had," he said in a suddenly serious tone. "We got off lightly compared to some of those poor souls."

"Shit," said John. "I knew I shouldn't have asked." he went forward to embrace Scott again, but ended up just swatting his older brother on the arm. "Come on, buddy. Let's see what you brought me."

After sorting out the supplies, which consisted of the usual paraphernalia of toilet rolls, cleaning products, food and drink (more bloody grapefruit juice), toiletries, clean underwear from Grandma, (even though John was more than capable of doing his own laundry, even back at Base), and various engineering bits and pieces for the space station itself, the three of them sat at the small table in the kitchen eating warm helpings of Grandma's peach cobbler and drinking tall glasses of ice cold milk. John ate greedily, surprising even Scott, whose own appetite was legendary. One helping disappeared down the blond man's gullet in seconds, then he grabbed the dish and scooped out another helping, demolishing it almost as rapidly.

"Do you have worms, Johnny?" asked Scott, staring at John's bulging cheeks as the young man masticated noisily.

"Ah, Scott, it's a common misconception that, ah, worms, ah cause you to eat more," said Brains helpfully. "I-in fact, some worms ah, actually cause a _de_crease in appetite."

"Tapeworms make you eat more," said Scott, turning to stare at the hesitant young scientist who blushed so easily, especially when it was Scott doing the staring.

"Threadworms make your ass itch," mumbled John around a mouthful of fruit and pastry. "We had them when we were kids, remember? Alan scratched so hard he made his rectum bleed. To this day, I refuse to shake hands with that kid." He picked up his glass and drank milk before he'd even swallowed his food. Scott winced at the disgusting sounds coming from his brother's mouth.

"There are usually no symptoms of, ah, tapeworm, Scott," Brains went on. "They are, ah, detected in the stool sample. Perhaps we'd, ah, better ask John if he can provide us with a, ah, small gift to take back to Base for analysis."

"Want me to shit in a bag for ya, Brains?" said John quite happily.

Scott put his head in his hands. "Jesus, John. Can we change the subject, please?" he moaned. John being uncharacteristically disgusting was bad enough without Brains joining in.

"You started it, mentioning worms." John sat back, patting his bloated stomach. "Boy, that was good. Man cannot live on a constant supply of Vitamin enriched granola bars alone."

Scott looked up suddenly as though a thought had just struck him. "Speaking of small gifts, Johnny, I just remembered." He got up and left the kitchen, leaving John looking at Brains in puzzlement. When he returned, he was carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper. He handed it across the table to John, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Here ya go, fella," he said. "Special delivery from the Dreams Come True Fairy."

John took the parcel from Scott and stared at it. It was from Karen. She had said she wanted to send him something, but he hadn't thought it would arrive this quickly. His mouth went dry. He wanted to tear it open and see what it was, but at the same time he wanted it to be a private moment. Scott smiled in a big brotherly fashion.

"Go ahead and open it, if you want. We don't mind."

John needed no further encouragement. He got up and left the room, eager to see what she'd sent him. He almost ran to his bedroom and flung himself onto the bed like an overexcited teenage boy. He gazed at her handwriting on the front of the parcel, the way she wrote his name. A huge 'J' with a swirly loop and a 'T' with the longest top bar ever. It was over the top and dramatic, and it made him grin like a goofball.

Carefully he pulled the brown wrapping off. There was a small cardboard box inside with doodles drawn all over it. He turned the box over in his hands, smiling at all her little pictures. Red hearts and yellow stars and blue moons and orange rockets and for some unearthly reason, a small green mushroom. Finally, when he could wait no longer, he opened the box and peered in.

There was a small plastic ziploc bag, and inside it was a long, thick coil of her auburn hair, tied at each end with a small piece of black velvet ribbon. _Has she taken the scissors to her own head?_ John thought with some alarm. However, as soon as he prised open the bag the smell of almond shampoo assailed his nostrils and he instantly forgot about everything. He pulled the coil of hair out and pressed his face against it, rubbing it all over his mouth and nose, closing his eyes in ecstasy. It was the next best thing to having her right there in the room with him. He looped it through and around his fingers, feeling its silky softness, smelling it again and again. He was getting a hard-on just playing with her hair. He knew that as soon as Scott and Brains were gone, he was going to get his dick out and wrap her hair around it and make himself come like never before. Suddenly, as much as he'd been waiting for Scott and Brains to arrive, he grinned at the thought that now he couldn't wait for them to be gone.

There were more items in the box. Bless her, she had saved him some chocolates from her gift bag. He popped one into his mouth and chewed blissfully, crunching the whole hazelnut in the centre. She had saved him a cinnamon cake, too. He ate that straight after the chocolate.

There was a card. It had a picture of a spaceman on the front with the caption 'Fly Me To The Moon'. When he opened it, he found that she had copied out the entire set of lyrics to the old Frank Sinatra song down the inside cover and underlined the words 'I Love You' ten times with a red coloured pencil.

On the other half of the card she had written 'To the man who took me out of myself and placed me among the stars. I love you John Tracy'. He stared at the words, taking them all in, stunned at their impact on his unsuspecting heart.

Under that, she had drawn a little cartoon woman floating in the sky with more big yellow stars all around her. It was a ridiculous little sketch designed to look as though a five year old had done it, but John was powerless to stop what happened next. He started to cry. Not just small sniffles, but great shuddering sobs that tore though his whole body. He pushed the heels of both hands into his eyes to try and stop the flow of tears but he couldn't. They squeezed their way out and trickled down his face and wrists, and he sat on the bed with his head bowed, shaking and sobbing like a baby, feeling as though his heart was going to break into a million pieces.

And then Scott was there. His big brother had answered the call. The older Tracy sat on the bed and put his hands on John's shoulders, pulling John back against his broad, strong chest. Scott didn't say a word. He didn't intervene. He didn't pick up the card and laugh at the drawing or laugh at John's tears or even try to lighten the mood. He just held John against him in a show of support and let the young man cry his eyes out.

Scott had held his brothers right the way through their lives. John remembered being carried through shopping malls by Scott. He recalled Scott giving him piggy-backs and leg-ups into apple trees. Scott had two of the strongest arms known to man, and two of the easiest shoulders to lean on. Being held by Scott was the most natural thing in the world for John. His father had been right-Scott knew them better than they knew themselves.

Scott would get him through this.

After a few more minutes of gut-wrenching sobs, during which Brains had appeared to stand silently in the doorway, John was at last able to raise his head and blink the stinging tears away. Brains crossed the room and gave him a wad of tissues to wipe his face with. He thanked Brains almost shyly, dragging tissue after tissue across his streaming nose, blowing it loudly, sniffing back great gobs of mucus. All the while Scott gently brushed the sweaty hair from his brother's forehead, soothing him with slow, sweeping strokes of his warm, masculine hand.

"I'm sorry, fellas," John said at last, his voice only slightly cracking now. "I just don't know what got into me there."

"Sounds to me like love got into you," Scott smiled, casting an amused look at the long hank of female hair that John was now twisting in both hands. "That hers?"

"Yeah." John straightened out its kinks and curls and then let it spring back into shape. "The crazy woman chopped off her own hair just to send to me."

Scott laughed, the sound resonating through John like a distant thunderstorm. "You'll have to send her some back." He reached up and twirled John's blond curl around his index finger. "Maybe we can get rid of this. Then we won't have to call you Goldilocks any more."

John snorted, a half-sob, half-guffaw. "You'd better not still be calling me fucking _Goldilocks_," he growled, pressing a tissue against his still dripping nose.

"'Who's been sleeping in _my_ bed'," said Scott in a rather disturbing imitation of a small girl.

"Seriously. Tell me you do _not _still call me Goldilocks."

"_I_ don't still call you Goldilocks," Scott said innocently. "I can't vouch for the others."

"Ah, I would ah, personally rather be called, ah, Goldilocks than, ah, Beavis or Butt-head," said Brains.

"Don't forget when Alan used to call Brains 'The Nutty Professor'," said Scott. "Until Brains put itching powder in his underwear."

"And, ah, when we ah, used to call Virgil 'Liberace'."

"Let's see, what did I used to get called?" mused Scott. "Oh yes. Big Moose, Captain Caveman, Englebert Humpadick, and what was that weird one Gordon used to call me?"

"Captain Wazz," smirked John. "When he decided you were spending way too long in the bathroom for someone who said they were only going for a slash."

"Yeah, well, I _was_ horny as hell in those days, I have to admit. So, I think you get off lightly with just Goldilocks." Scott grinned and ruffled the front of John's hair, messing up his fringe until it stuck up in all directions. "So anyway, listen, John. You want Brains to stay with you for a while? We did kinda talk about it on the way up..." Scott looked at Brains, letting the young scientist take over.

"Ah, sure, John. I'd love to spend a bit of time up here anyway. There are, ah, systems relays I haven't looked at i-in a while, and ah, it would also be nice to ah, spend some time with you. That is, ah, i-if you don't mind the company. I mean, I would, ah, be busy elsewhere, but, ah, always nearby if you, ah, needed to talk."

John felt ripples of joy throughout his entire body. He was literally going from one emotional extreme to the other today. "Brains!" he exclaimed, choking back another sob. "God, it would be _great_ to have your company. Listen, we do need to check those relays, and well, it would be wonderful just to know that you were around. Really. It would. I'd be so _glad_ if you could stay."

Brains beamed with pleasure and blushed scarlet for the third time since he'd arrived.

"Well, guess that's settled, then," said Scott, looking from one delighted face to the other. "Brains, you can stay here overnight and then either I or Alan will come back and pick you up tomorrow. That'll give this soppy old romantic time to get his heart back in one piece and be fit to rule the world once more like the goddamn _Tracy_ that he is. Right, kid?"

"Right, Scott," agreed John, for once grateful to his older brother for taking complete control of the situation.

"Okay, then. My suggestion now, is that we all have some more of Grandma's delicious home baking while I tell dad what we've decided to do, and then I can get my heroic butt back to the island and continue what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted."

"Which was?" asked John.

"Ah, trying to steal Tin-Tin away from Alan," said Brains wryly.

"And succeeding," Scott grinned. "Boy I just love it when that guy flips his wig. It's so easy!"

John shook his head. He ground his knuckles into his eyes, wiped his face with his hand. There was no way he'd have made it through tonight if they'd left him on his own. He would have gone crazy. He would have made himself sick again or something. He had never, ever been in this position before, and he didn't know what to do. For all his pride in his aloof self-sufficiency and his not inconsiderable intellectual abilities, John Tracy realised with dismay that in some respects, he didn't have a clue about life or love. He really didn't.

But Scott did. And Scott had had the answer. Scott always had the answer. And for that, John loved his big, macho shit-head brother more than he would ever be able to tell him.

####

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15

_Hello everyone! Chapter 15 and let's get the action moving along now._

_To Dominoes Pizza, THANK YOU for keeping me sustained with food, drink and delicious cheesecake. (I definitely channel Scott when it comes to eating pizza and cheesecake.)_

_To everyone else THANK YOU for keeping me sustained with laughs that genuinely have me ROTF. Really, literally, on the floor crying. (Louise H. comedy legend!)_

_New readers, welcome. _

_On with the show!_

_**Disclaimers: TV-Verse. Rated M for adult content. (In this chapter it's swearing.)**_

_**Thunderbirds characters are still owned by someone else, all Ocs are mine. **_

_####_

After Scott had gone, John and Brains went back to John's room where John sat back down on the bed and went through Karen's package again. Through all his tears and traumas, he hadn't even noticed the envelope nestling at the bottom of the box. He took it out and opened it up to discover she had sent him photos of herself. He sat and stared at a close-up picture of her in the park, standing by the lake and smiling happily at the camera, a woolly hat pulled over her flaming curls and a long knitted scarf wound several times around her neck. There were no leaves on the trees. _Last winter, _was all she'd written on the back. He handed it without a word to Brains, who took it and peered through his thick lensed glasses at the young woman who had bowled his best friend over so spectacularly.

"Well?" John prompted after Brains had frowned studiously at the photo for well over thirty seconds.

"Ah, well, ah John, she's, ah, very pretty," Brains said at last, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Huh? You were expecting...?"

"Ah, well, I ah, thought she'd be some kind of, ah, um, femme fatale..." Brains blushed immediately and trailed off looking sheepish.

John smiled wryly, looking at the other photos. His own eyes suddenly widened so far they nearly fell out of his head. "Oh my...maybe if I showed you _this_ one," he said, making a big show of clutching the photo to his chest. "This is more like what you were expecting, hmm?"

Karen had sent him a photo of herself in her lacy black bra which she had obviously taken herself by holding the camera at arm's length. It had a shaky, lopsided quality and her face was creased in the broadest, dirtiest grin he'd ever seen. _This_ was the photo that was going to get him through the night, he decided. He looked with amusement at the changing expression on Brains' face. The young scientist was clearly quite eager to see what he probably figured was a money shot of some kind.

But no. John wasn't going to parade his precious girlfriend's assets like a pimp. He could tease Brains all night, but the man was not going to get to see this one.

John deliberately inserted the photo slowly back into the envelope and waggled his fingers at Brains for the other one. "Come on, Brains, before I get all carried away again, you and I have got some work to do."

They sat on the floor of one of the the access tunnels in the bowels of Thunderbird 5. John had his electronic clipboard and Brains was checking the multi service access nodes. Thunderbird 5's electronic communications equipment hardly ever needed any bits replacing, but regularly going over the inventory helped put everyone's minds at rest and was in any case the professional thing to do, despite the fact that much of her routine service and maintenance could actually be carried out on the ground from Tracy Island's own laboratory.

John was sitting with his back against the wall of the tunnel with his legs drawn up, feet apart, the clipboard resting on his left thigh. "So, Brains, what did you think, seriously. About Karen."

Brains pretended to look busier than he actually was. "Ah, well, John, I thought she looked ah, very nice."

John laughed. "Don't hold back."

Brains adjusted his glasses. "John, you ah, know I'm not the best person to consult on such, ah, personal matters."

"Well, why not? You're practically like one of my brothers anyway."

Brains smiled. "But I'm not exactly an expert on, ah, 'affairs of the heart', if we can call them that."

"That is the polite way of putting it," agreed John with a naughty grin.

Brains blushed. "And I ah, certainly wouldn't know anything about _that_."

"Oh, come on, Brains. You're not a virgin."

If Brains was red before, he went neon now. "Can we ah, change the subject, please, John?"

John laughed devilishly. He was glad that Brains was here. He could feel a little of his old self returning. Cooped up all alone on a space station was not a good place to be when you were pining for something. And he had reached the conclusion that he was definitely pining. Crying was not something he did. It had startled and embarrassed him. He had done so much apologising to Scott and Brains that Scott had decided on a forfeit. If John were to start crying again over anything, Brains was to make him do 500 one-armed push ups in the middle of the floor while Scott watched on the monitor screen._ Quite aside from the homo-erotic connotations of _that _little scenario, _John had commented to Scott as the older man was preparing to leave, y_ou'll_ _never get your wish, because it ain't gonna happen again._

"So, anyway, I've been using the satellite to call her and to get visuals on the computer. It's definitely not traceable, but if you want to go through the procedure with me to double check, that would be good," John smiled.

"If that's what you ah, want me to do, then ah, I'd be happy to check that for you."

John scratched his forehead absently. "It sure is difficult having to watch what I say all the time. I can't even talk about my day with her. I have to hedge around things. _Busy day at_ _the office._ She already thinks I'm a sneaky liar." He broke off there and laughed dryly at Brains' reproachful expression. "Well, she knows I'm not telling her everything."

"It's a tricky, ah, situation, I agree," Brains nodded. "But, ah, I don't see any solution, not while you're ah, on duty."

"No." John sighed, tapped his clipboard with the stylus. "We're done here, basically, aren't we? The nodes are working fine, the cables are all attached. The batteries are fully charged, the clockwork key's been reset..."

"Ah, yes, John, and it's, ah, all plugged in."

"Then let's get the heck outta this tunnel. It gives me the creeps down here."

####

They made popcorn and hot dogs and went to the home cinema room to watch a movie. John loved the touches of decadence his father had provided on Thunderbird 5. When you came away from the Communications room and all the cold, hard, flashing, winking, bleeping technology, the relaxation areas were quite indulgent and impressive.

They lounged on the comfortable sofa and watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles. _That's me and Scott on the way home,_ laughed John. _Ah, which one's you?_ chuckled Brains. _The smart one_, John replied. _Ah, they're both, ah, pretty stupid, _grinned Brains. _"Did you see_ _the Bears game?"_ John drawled in a bad imitation of Scott. _"Flintstones, meet the Flintstones,"_ sang Brains. Then they spent the rest of the movie doing bad impressions of all of John's brothers until they were crying with laughter.

"You're, ah, crying. 500 push ups," gasped Brains, clutching his stomach, which by now was full of hot dogs and popcorn.

"Get lost. I'm not letting Scott watch me pump my ass up and down on the floor just so he can get a dubious sexual thrill."

Brains laughed even harder, and blushed even redder.

"_Yeah, baby_," John went on in his 'Scott' voice, grateful to have such an impressionable and easily amused audience. _"I know you're my brother and all but_ _your ass is pretty _hot_. It's like a girl's ass_." He lifted himself a little way off the sofa and mimed rolling his hips like a lapdancer. It looked obscene and hilarious both at the same time. Brains was in fits.

"You should be the one doing push-ups, not me," John commented.

"Ah, do I look like a guy who, ah, does push ups?" Brains snorted, throwing popcorn in John's direction.

"Ah, but you'd be doing them for _Scott_," John said suggestively, nudging Brains's shoulder with his boot.

"The, ah, prospect of which does not exactly, ah, fill me with glee," Brains responded, looking positively unimpressed.

This time it was John who laughed. "Brains, Brains, Brains. I don't know what I'd have done without your company tonight. I think I seriously would have gone nuts. I mean, I love this girl, right? It shouldn't be making me feel like I want to bang my head against the wall."

"Actually, ah, John, I believe that insanity is, ah, one of the main symptoms of being in love. Which is why I, ah, tend to avoid it at, ah, all costs."

"And because Tin-Tin's already taken," John grinned, winking at his friend.

"I have not the, ah, slightest interest in, ah, Tin-Tin besides, ah, friendship."

John pushed the young scientist's shoulder with his boot again. "Liar."

"Ah, Tin-Tin and I are friends, John. I could not, ah, fathom having a, ah, _relationship_ with her."

"Oh, I bet you could _fathom_ it. If she wasn't with Alan- not that she _is_ always with Alan these days- you'd be in there like a shot. I know you would."

Brains got to his feet rather too quickly. "I, ah, think I'm going to, ah, contact Mr. Tracy and let him know how we're getting on. Ah, if that's all right with you?"

John waved his hand dismissively but with affection. "Yeah, yeah, avoid the issue why dont'cha. Okay, Brains, go do your thing."

When Brains had gone, John relaxed back onto the sofa with a big grin on his face and put his booted feet up on the table in front of him. He gazed at the giant wall mounted movie screen which stared back at him blankly. His mind superimposed an image of Karen there, happy and carefree in her big woolly hat and mile long scarf, running through dead leaves, laughing and zigzagging as he tried to catch her.

####

Karen Meadows was getting really pissed off. Today was not a good day for someone whose nerves were already frayed. She'd slept in, burnt her toast (John would have been thrilled at the smoke alarm going off yet again), smudged her mascara and tripped up the library steps, painfully banging her knee. She was not happy, and every single one of the people in the library today were for some unknown reason being awkward all at once.

A child had pushed another child down some stairs and the mothers had squared up to one another. Teela Murphy had conveniently disappeared, leaving Cathy and Karen to try and sort it out. Then a young male student wearing headphones had spilled a chocolate milkshake all over his opened reference books and acted like it was no big deal. After that, an old lady had literally locked herself in the lavatory, and then later on a young couple were found almost copulating in the History section, which made Karen blush to the tips of her ears when she remembered the way she'd pounced on John only five minutes after they'd met. (That first kiss of theirs would stay in her mind forever. He had _definitely_ responded, despite his indignant protestations.)

Teela Murphy's lazy nephews were being visited by a gang of their surly teenage friends, and among them were the two little brats who kept skulking off to smoke weed in the restrooms. How they hadn't been barred from every public building in town, Karen had no idea. They may be friends of Teela's blue-eyed nephews, but they were still troublemakers. _Why don't you little idiots go and_ _hang around outside McDonalds, isn't that what you do_? She thought crossly._ You wouldn't know a library book if it hit you in the face. And come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea._

On her second coffee break she was waylaid by Cathy who invited her to go and sit outside in the sun for ten minutes to calm down. The two women found a quite spot on a bench near a triangle of grass that was littered with snack packets.

"God, I could strangle someone today," Karen muttered, rolling her coffee cup back and forth between her palms. "Bloody Teela Murphy. It's all right when it's quiet and she can go around picking on people for nothing, but when it's busy like this, she's nowhere to be seen."

"Yeah, but isn't that good?" Cathy replied. She was slightly older than Karen, short and stout and bags of fun with her sharp china blue eyes and wicked wit. "The old bitch should disappear altogether. No-one would miss her."

"True." Karen sipped her coffee, grimaced at its bitterness.

"So, your fella. When are you next seeing him?" Cathy grinned, nudging her friend.

"Goddddd, if I could transport to wherever he is now, I'd do it this second."

"I hear you. I used to feel that way about my Greg. Of course now, the less I see of that dimbulb the better." Cathy let out a raucous laugh.

"Come on. You and Greg are two peas in a pod," Karen smiled fondly. "You're the best looking couple I've ever seen. He clearly adores you."

"Yeah, the jerk." Cathy roared again. People stared at her, smiling uncertainly.

Karen fell silent, thinking about her John, how gorgeous he always looked on the computer screen, whether he was wearing a rumpled T-Shirt and boxers or a clean, pressed button-down shirt and designer trousers. He had looked a little pale lately, but he was still the most handsome man she'd ever met, and her fingers literally ached to run themselves through his hair, night after night, morning after morning. She hoped he'd received her package. She fingered the back of her head where she'd carefully snipped the length of hair from where it was thickest. She'd done it with two mirrors and her nail scissors and it had been awkward, but the end result had been worth it. A long, coiled length of freshly washed coppery hair hung from her fingers, smelling of almonds.

She knew exactly what his first reaction would be. He'd be shocked that she'd cut so much of her own hair off. It made her grin fondly. He was such a worrier!

Cathy grumbled loudly and Karen came back to the present. Four surly teenage boys were hanging around the entrance to the library, slurping from drinks bottles and jostling each other in the doorway.

"Bloody little hooligans," Cathy growled. "We need to get them off these premises. They don't come here to read or study, just cause trouble. Is it a day off for them or something?"

"Who knows?" replied Karen. "They're always knocking around, whatever day it is. I blame the Media Room."

"Come on, we'd better get back to work." Cathy sighed. "You can be sure that Murphy cow will be around somewhere, timing us."

They got up and approached the library doors. The teenage boys pushed each other, and one of them stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me please," said Cathy brusquely.

"_Excuuse me pleease,_" said the boy, egged on by his smirking acolytes.

"Look. Just get out of the bloody way," Cathy retorted, and pushed past him, making him edge sideways.

"Hoy, you work here. We can get you sacked," the boy said insolently.

"Be the best thing you ever fucking did," snarled Cathy, shocking the lad into silence.

Karen hid her mouth behind her hand as they climbed the stairs to the staff quarters to return their coffee mugs. "I can't believe what you just said," she giggled. "We're not supposed to swear at customers, no matter how annoying they are."

"Those rats aren't customers," Cathy replied. "They're little shits who should be in school."

"I know that," said Karen, "but I wouldn't underestimate their troublemaking abilities. They'll probably make the rest of the day hell for us now."

"Naaah," said Cathy, pushing open the door to the canteen. "They'll just mooch off to the mall and make nuisances of themselves there. They get bored too easily."

####

John found Brains in the kitchen making coffee. "Did you check in with Base?" he asked, going over to the fridge and peering in.

"Ah, yes, John." the young scientist was for some reason still blushing.

"Everything A-OK?"

"Ah, yes, John. Ah, ship shape and ah, Bristol fashion."

"Bristol fashion? What the heck does that mean?" John cut them both a slice of Grandma's strawberry cheesecake.

"Ah, I believe it's an old sailing term, ah, for when ships adjusted their ah, yardarms for entry into, ah, Bristol harbour."

"Well, blow me down with a feather." John took a large bite of cheesecake and continued speaking with his mouth full. "Brains, no wonder no-one will play Trivial Pursuit with you."

They took their coffee and cheesecake up into the observatory. They looked at Saturn, admiring the wonders of the ringed planet. _The planet that looks like it's missing some friends_, as Karen had called it. If she were her now instead of Brains, he'd be more likely observing _her_ heavenly body than anything up there in the cosmos.

John rotated the giant telescope this way and that, showing Brains the star cluster he was mapping and a comet that was hovering near the Pleiades. He got lost in the wonders of the solar system. Everything was visible from out here. There would never be any clouds to get in his way.

After that, they went back to the movie room and tuned into a television satellite so that they could watch a science documentary on comets and asteroids. John was spellbound all the way through. Sometimes it was easy to just lay the facts aside and lose yourself in the beauty of creation.

They ate an early supper of Grandma's home made chicken stew with string beans and mashed potato. John was ravenous as usual, shovelling the food into his mouth while Brains watched with undisguised awe.

"Ah, I haven't seen such gluttony since, ah, Scott completed his, ah, One Day Fast For Charity," he observed.

"I can't help it," said John, chewing. "I'm just so hungry all of a sudden."

"You will, ah, give yourself indigestion. You are swallowing, ah, too much air."

"Thanks, Dr. Hackenbacker."

"I mean it. You will, ah, get stomach cramps and possibly give yourself dia..."

"Brains." John said sharply, cutting his friend off with a smirk and an arched eyebrow. "I get the picture."

"I'm, ah, only trying to help, John." The look on the young scientist's face was mild, but mischievous. "So, ah, anyway. What time do you, ah, normally call your, ah, lady friend?"

"My lady friend? Brains, call her Karen. I'm starting to get the impression you don't like her. It's making me paranoid." John winked at his friend to show him that he wasn't being serious. "Well, normally around 8pm her time, once she's gotten home and had something to eat and showered or whatever. I used to sneak in a call to her at work now and again, but they got told off for using their cell phones during working hours so we had to put a stop to that."

"Okay," said Brains. "Well, ah, you just let me know when you want me to make myself scarce, and I'll, ah, take myself off to, ah, watch a movie. Ah, with headphones on, and, ah, the volume turned up."

John stared at Brains's nonchalant expression for a moment or two, then a broad grin stretched across his face and he picked up a string bean and threw it across the table. "You'd better," he chuckled.

####

Karen's next encounter with the surly teenage boys was in the hallway outside the restrooms. "can I ask you boys why you're always lurking in this corridor?" she said wearily.

"Waitin' for Joey," one of them grunted. He was wearing a blue cap.

"Joey can't use the bathroom by himself?"

Blue Cap shrugged. His three friends shuffled and murmured.

"You really need to move on, guys. I mean it."

"Waitin' for Joey," Blue Cap repeated.

"Where's your fat friend?" one of the other boys said suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" Karen felt her blood pressure soar instantly. "What did you say?"

"Your fat friend. '_Excuuuse me pleeease'." _He grinned idiotically. "She's a bitch, but I'd give _you _one."

Karen clamped her lip between her teeth to suppress the urge to give the insolent wretch a mouthful of abuse. Talk to him in his own language. Box his ears. In fact, knock his head clean off.

"Get away from the restrooms," she said softly, leaning closer to Blue Cap. "Now."

"She's a prickteaser." the other boy muttered, to hoots of derision from the others.

"I don't think you've even got a prick _to_ tease," Karen said, instantly regretting it.

The boys howled and hollered, pushing the one who had been humiliated. He glared at Karen, his face red and shining with rage. "Fuck you," he growled.

"Get out," Karen said. "Now. I mean it."

####

John decided to while away an hour in the gym. He took it easy on the running machine this time, jogging at a steady pace, drinking plenty of water. He broke a light sweat, nothing more. After the running machine, he gave his upper body a workout on the rowing machine. He did a few bench presses and leg lifts, and then he went on the sunbed for a few minutes, feeling like a bit of an idiot lying under the bright solar tubes with a pair of green plastic goggles on. He could see why Alan enjoyed it though- he could pretend he was in Monte Carlo or something.

He resisted the urge to fondle himself.

As time wore on, John started feeling antsy, knowing that Karen would be finishing work any minute now. He was starting to feel that stirring in his groin, like a trained response. _Pavlov's C***_, he thought idly. He wanted to go take a shower and maybe have a quick tug, just to take the edge off. Gathering his towel and water bottle, he left the gym and went back up to the Communications room, figuring he'd probably find Brains there.

Just as he reached the doorway to the communications room, the emergency signal went off, making him drop his water bottle in alarm. Another call out of the blue. He and Brains reached the comm console at exactly the same time, just as a shrill, frightened voice came through, sending a cold shiver right the way down John's spine.

"Calling International Rescue! International Rescue! Come in! _Please!_"

It was Karen.

####

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16

Straight to business with this one, people.

**Disclaimers: Tracys not mine, OCs mine. Shore Leave is Rated M for adult content.**

A/N: 'Livesy' is a fictional town made up entirely by me.

####

"Brains, Brains, it's her! Jesus...Brains, you have to get that! It's her, it's Karen!" John's mouth went dry as he pushed his friend towards the console.

"Wh...what?" Brains said, startled by John's rough manhandling.

"It's Karen! If I answer that she'll recognise me straight away and dad will go nuclear. Get it, Brains, I'm serious!"

Without another word, Brains darted forward, picked up and activated the silver microphone. "Ah, this is International Rescue, receiving you, ah, loud and clear. What is your, ah, problem? Ah, the nature of your emergency?"

John paced anxiously in a tight circle around his friend. Brains batted him away. "Ah, go and put your, ah, uniform on or something," he whispered, irritatedly.

"International Rescue, help! The museum's on fire! There are people in there! You've got to come, quickly!" Karen was breathless, excited, scared and wound-up. They could hear people shouting in the background. John's hands itched to grab the microphone away from Brains. This was _his_ job- surely his father would understand? But he dared not risk it. He ran to his room and grabbed his uniform, pulling it on so quickly that he almost fell over. Then he ran back to Brains, who was handling the situation a lot calmer than he would have been.

"There was a small fire in the library, but we managed to get it under control," Karen was saying. "Some teenage boys did it. They got chased out of here by security so they went down the road and now the museum's on fire. Badly, I mean, flames coming out of the windows and everything. We reckon they used lighter fluid to make it burn faster. How quickly can you get here?"

"Ah, we'll be there as soon as we can," said Brains. "Our reconnaisance craft can be there in under half an hour." He looked at John, noted the blond man's fear and worry. He turned back to the microphone. "Ah, miss, you must stay away from the Danger Zone now, is that clear? Don't try to get involved. Ah, leave it to the, ah, emergency services."

"I'm in the library right now," Karen said. "People are panicking. There are so many kids in that museum! Oh God, get here quickly. _Please._"

"Leave it to us, miss, ah, we'll be there as soon as we can."

Brains switched off Karen's link and activated the link to Jeff back at Base. The silver-haired patriarch answered the call immediately. "Come in, John," he said.

Brains quickly handed the microphone to John, who snatched it a little more hastily than he needed to. He ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down then faced his father's image on the monitor.

"Dad, there's a museum on fire in the town of Livesy on the mainland." John gave his father the reference points. "The fire was started with an accelerant and is raging uncontained. We also believe there are children in there. We need to get there as fast as we can."

"Do we ever get there any other way?" Jeff said gruffly. "Right, Scott, off you go. Virgil, take Gordon and Alan, Domo and the Mole. I'd suggest Firefly but I don't think it would be much use in such a built up area, besides, all the usual emergency services will be there with their own heat proof equipment. Right boys, make it snappy."

John heard his brothers' murmurs of acknowledgement, and breathed out a sigh of relief knowing that they would be on the scene in under an hour. Meanwhile, he needed to make sure that Karen stayed _off _the scene.

He looked at his watch. Karen should have clocked off by now, but the fire had obviously put paid to anyone going home. In fact, if he knew anything about fires, people would be coming out of their houses and making special trips into town just to watch.

Just as he was debating whether to call her, the mobile phone he kept in his holster started ringing. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, exchanged a "here goes nothing," glance with Brains, and then answered it.

"Hey, baby, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he said, smoothly.

"John! John, you wouldn't believe what's happening, ohmigod. You know the museum, down the road? Well, it's on fire! God, not even a small fire, a huge one. It's awful. I think we're all gonna have to evacuate, the fire services are going ballistic. We think it was arson, well, I know it was arson. Those wretched kids..."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, sweetheart," John said. "Listen, you need to get out of there, okay? If it's as bad as it sounds, I don't want you anywhere near the Da...the fire. Okay? Leave it to the emergency services. Get yourself out of there and go home."

"But I have friends here! I know people in the museum!"

"Karen, there's nothing you can do. You're not a firefighter, you're a civilian, and to the emergency services you are just someone who needs to get out of the way. Please, Karen. I don't want you there. I'm worried about you now. Don't make it worse for me. _Please_."

"Make it worse for you? But John, I know people here. I can't just go home. They'd think I was a coward!"

"No-one will think you're a coward for making sure you don't get hurt. You can't play the hero...or heroine. That's just in the movies. You don't know what you're dealing with. Get your friends out of the library and go home. Or at least, for God sakes, get out of that area. Have you seen how people panic when there's a fire?"

"I'm seeing it now," she agreed. "To be honest, it's like a madhouse."

"Okay, honey. Now, please listen to me. I want you safe. I'm freaking out just at the thought of you being anywhere near a blazing building. You don't know what's in that museum. There could be gas canisters, old bullets, fireworks, God only knows. The emergency services are more than likely going to evacuate every building in that area and get everyone well out of the way. I'm surprised it hasn't already been done. Why aren't you all outside in your designated fire points?"

"Well, for a start, everyone who's supposed to be in charge has pissed off. Some people went out and then came back in. It's mental, John. Maybe I should just do what you say and get out."

"You should, Karen. This isn't a game. I want you to get out. Tell someone, anyone, you're going home. Grab a friend and leave. Let the professionals deal with the situation. I love you, and I need to know you're safe. Okay?"

"Okay, okay, John, I will. Oh! Wait! I have to tell you, I called International Rescue! Me! I called International Rescue!"

_Yes, I know_, thought John, pinching the bridge of his nose. A_nd you nearly gave me a heart attack in the process._

"John? Are you still there? Did you hear what I said? I said I called International Rescue!"

"I heard, Karen. You did a good thing. They'll know what to do."

"Damn right they will! They're heroes. Apparently they have all this futuristic gear that's meant to be top secret. Can't I just wait around until they..."

"No!" said John, abruptly. What- did she think this was_ fun?_

"But..."

"Karen! " he spoke a little more sharply than he'd intended to. "I can hear the mayhem that's going on around you. I can hear sirens and people screaming. Stop acting like you're at DisneyWorld. Get out of there, now."

"John, Christ, you sound angry."

"Well, do you blame me? Honey, I said I love you and I want you to be safe. Imagine if it was the other way around. Wouldn't you want me to be safe?"

"Oh God, of _course_ I would. I'd die if anything happened to you."

"Okay, well, guess what. I'd die if anything happened to _you_. So, please, for the last time, Karen. Forget hanging around to wait for International Rescue, or anyone else for that matter. Tell someone you're getting out, and go home. _Please._"

"Okay, all right John. I'll go home. You're right, it's going to get too dangerous around here. The fire services are already moving everyone up the street. Okay, John. I'll call you later."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay, sweetheart. You know I'm only doing this because I love you. I don't mean to sound harsh, you know that."

"I know, John. And I love you too. I'll call you later, when I get home. I'll be safe, baby, don't worry."

With that, she ended the call.

"Oh, man!" John declared, putting his phone back into his holster. "Why don't women listen!"

Brains shrugged. "Ah, beats me, John."

"She's getting out of the area, anyway. Not just because I don't want her there when the boys arrive, I just don't want her there, period. The fire services are going to get everyone out, and there'll be people everywhere, pushing and shoving. Rubbernecking. Acting the fool. She could easily get hurt. She's only small. It just sounds like total chaos down there." Instinctively he looked towards the panel of windows at the curve of the Earth. "But I can't talk to her at the same time as I'm meant to be monitoring this situation. And I can't ask you to answer my phone because she's already spoken to you."

"Ah, John," said Brains gently, "I, ah, think you are putting the, ah, cart before the horse. Take it easy. We'll take this, ah, one step at a time. It'll be, ah, okay."

"Oh God, Brains, I hope you're right. I promised dad she wouldn't find out about us. And now this. I've only known her two weeks!" John wiped his hands over his face, feeling a panic coming on.

"John, we couldn't, ah, plan for anything like this. It's not as if she, ah, started the fire herself. The first rule of our, ah, organization is, we don't refuse any calls. Life is, ah, unpredictable. As we know."

"I know, I know. And we _are_ doing our best to stop her finding out about us, aren't we? We are doing the right thing?"

"Yes, John, don't worry. She won't, ah, suspect a thing."

####

Karen left the Media Room and made her way down to the ground floor. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning. She began to realise the full severity of the situation. There were already firefighters swarming through the front doors ordering everyone out.

She wanted to find Cathy. The two of them could go back to Cathy and Greg's and watch the television reports. The last thing she wanted was to upset John. He had already begun to sound angry at her stubbornness to do as he said, but now that she could smell the fire and hear the flames and even imagine she could feel the heat through the walls of the library, she realised his fears were not unfounded. There was nothing to be gained by sticking around. She would be of no help to anybody. She'd only be endangering her own life. Besides, the way these firefighters were acting, they weren't going to allow anyone to hang around.

Karen saw a firefighter coming towards her and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Miss, you need to get out," the woman said, her face barely visible through the visor of her helmet.

"I was just going," Karen said.

"If you're an employee of this institution, you need to see my colleague at the front door with the checklist. Make sure we've accounted for as many people as we can."

Karen nodded, but the firefighter was already on her way towards the stairs.

Cathy was nowhere to be seen. Karen saw Anise Gifford from the Languages Department and called after her, but the other woman didn't hear and was swallowed up in the crowd outside the front door. People were giving their names to the fire services. There was milling and jostling, and as Karen reached the library entrance she could hear the roar and crackle of flames and see the red and orange sparks that danced and swirled through the smoke darkened sky. _Jesus_, she thought, _it's getting worse._

Karen gave her name to the firefighter with the clipboard. "Has Catherine Blackwood been through?" she asked. "Only, I've been looking for her. She's my friend."

The man studied his list of names. "Yes, we checked her out. She's gone."

"Okay, thanks." Well, at least Cathy was out of the building. Karen pushed her way through a small crowd that seemed to be going nowhere and made her way out onto the street. And that's when she saw it. Hovering above the blazing museum was a huge aircraft that looked like a cross between a rocket and a plane, with a long pointed nose and two outstretched wings, glowing and pulsing with the reflected light of flames and the rotating red and blue beacons of emergency vehicles.

"What the?" She muttered.

"It's International Rescue!" someone nearby said, whether to themselves or to her, she didn't know.

So _that's_ what they looked like. Karen stared at the machine in awe. What was it going to do? Did it have huge water jets? Or foam jets? Were there any more of them coming? It just seemed to be hanging there in the sky. Whoever was inside must be communicating with the fire services. She was dying to see what it was going to do.

People were being moved up the street. Firefighters were hustling everyone along, brooking no argument. As much as she wanted to stay and watch, Karen knew it was unsafe to do so. She crossed the street hurriedly, intending to take a shortcut through the walled public gardens to the bus stop where she could catch the bus that would take her home. She was on the first step down to the small garden area when she heard an all-too familiar voice.

"Kaz! Hey, Kaz! Wait up!"

Karen turned to see Cathy running across the street towards her.

"God, I've been looking for you everywhere!" Cathy said breathlessly. "Where are you going?"

"Home," said Karen. "I'm not sticking around. It's too dangerous. Look at that- it's an inferno."

"Well, someone called International Rescue. That's them, there." Cathy pointed up towards the great silver bird that was still hovering but had come closer to the ground. "I'm staying to watch that thing."

"What do you mean, you're staying? You can't stay. They're making everyone leave." Karen stared at her friend incredulously. "Besides, that smoke will probably kill you or something. It _stinks_. All those stuffed animals going up in flames? Probably poison gas."

"Aw, come on. Just to see what they do. We don't have to stay for long. If it's just going to hover there doing nothing, we'll leave. Come on, just five minutes. We can go down the back of this wall here, they won't see us."

"Jeez, Cathy. I promised John I'd go straight home."

"Well, we will. Soon. Five minutes, come on."

Karen heaved a sigh that John would have been proud of. "All right. _Five minutes_, Cathy. I mean it."

"Good on ya." Cathy cuffed her friend's arm affectionately. "Now, come on. There's so many people around we can get a bit closer if we stick by the wall. You know how secluded these gardens are. That's why they're always finding people shagging in the bushes."

Reluctantly, Karen followed her enthusiastic friend along the back of the wall, trampling through flower beds and getting scratched by rose thorns. "Cathy Blackwood, this is _not_ my idea of fun," she muttered.

"Oh, Kazzy, live a little," Cathy giggled. "I only want to get a look at these guys. Then we'll go get a drink or something. Okay?"

"Cathy, Jesus, the museum's burning down! There could be _people _in there! Stop making light of it all!"

"Okay, okay. But what can _we_ do? Hey, look! That thing's landing!"

They peered over the top of the wall at the rocket plane as it touched down in the middle of the street on twin struts that didn't look strong enough to take its weight. When it had settled fully and switched its engines off, the other emergency services started edging closer.

Cathy ran to the end of the wall to get a closer look. Karen followed wearily, knowing there was no stopping Cathy now.

"It's opening up! Look! Man alive, what's going to come out of it, some kind of silver suited alien?"

"No, Cathy, it'll just be a person," Karen scoffed.

A metal ladder unfolded from the open hatch and lowered itself to the ground. Cathy tugged the sleeve of Karen's jacket and squeaked like an excited schoolgirl trying to catch a glimpse of her favourite celebrity. "Look! Someone's emerging!"

A man appeared in the hatchway, dressed in a blue uniform of some kind.

Cathy was almost hugging Karen in her excitement.

The man descended the metal ladder in easy strides until he reached the ground. At once he was surrounded by firefighters, and he was taller than nearly all of them.

"Oh. My. God," whispered Cathy. "That man is a _hunk_!"

There was no denying that, even from fifty yards away, the man who had come out of the silver rocket plane was extremely goodlooking. Karen watched him closely, admiring the way he showed authority even to the most senior of the firefighters. He had thick, dark hair and wore a look of studious concentration. He was well built, with broad shoulders and long legs, and he wore a light blue sash over his left shoulder with an insignia on it. He also wore a gun of some kind in a holster on his right hip. What kind of rescue organization required guns? Suddenly she was as eager to get closer as Cathy was. What was the harm, after all? They were just sneaking a look, and then they were going home.

"Come on," said Cathy. "We can edge round the wall and get behind that tree. God, isn't this silly, we're like Spy Kids or something."

"More like stalkers," Karen muttered, but she followed anyway.

The man was now about twenty yards away. He was talking into some device on his wrist. Karen watched him, thinking there was something familiar about what he was doing. Now it was she that wanted to get closer. There was a tree further ahead. If she reached that, he'd be within spitting distance. She took a deep breath, and then instead of drawing attention to herself by running, she just strolled casually over. To her amazement, no-one seemed to notice.

Cathy was still behind the first tree. She hissed at Karen but Karen just waved at her, then pressed her finger to her lips. "Ssshhh!" She held up her hand, all five digits outstretched. "_Five minutes._"

Karen was now close enough to hear the man speaking.

"...seems like most of the patrons were evacuated right away," he was saying. "The fire took a while to get going, but from what I've been told, the kids used lighter fuel to accelerate the flames. The structure's badly weakened, so we'll probably need the Domo to hold up some walls. There's a basement area and they think some people might still be down there. Oh, and Virgil, we'll probably need the cutting equipment, too."

Karen's throat tightened. What was that name he just said? _Virgil?_

_It's an unusual name, but it suits him. I couldn't imagine him being called anything else._

_Virgil who paints nudes. Sounds like an interesting guy._

Surely not?

That thing he was talking into. It looked horribly familiar. And then she heard the disembodied response that emanated from it.

"Okay, Scott."

Scott? No. No, no, no, no, no. She couldn't get any closer without him seeing her. But that voice of his had sounded so familiar at first, and how could that be, unless she'd heard it before?

_I'm Scott. I make sure he stays out of trouble. Actually, I make sure they _all_ stay out of trouble._

Karen felt faint. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. The man was oblivious to her proximity as he carried on talking to this colleague of his who had the same name as John's brother. Then abruptly he turned back to his machine and climbed back up into the open hatchway.

"Karen!" hissed Cathy. "Karen! Come on, let's go!"

But Karen didn't want to leave now. Not until the man reappeared, or his colleagues arrived. She flapped her hand at Cathy, held it up again with all digits splayed. "_Five more minutes!_" she hissed back. Cathy rolled her eyes, gesticulated again. She lifted her cupped hand to her lips and mimed drinking, then waved her thumb in the direction of the town centre. But Karen had already turned back to the big silver bird and was watching with silent trepidation as the man reappeared, now dressed from head to foot in a reflective light blue heat suit complete with gloves, headgear and a tank of some kind strapped to his back.

He descended the steps of his craft and stood in almost exactly the same spot as before. And now Karen felt a wave of giddiness as she realised who he was.

It was the eyes. Those extraordinary deep blue eyes peering out through the visor of his heat suit.

_Oh my God. _

_Scott Tracy._

She felt sick. She staggered forward, her legs giving way. The last thing she saw was the man turning and looking directly at her as she fell into the middle of the road, practically at his feet.

####

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17

_**HELLO EVERYONE! **Let's pretend we're at the Oscars. To Louise H, Baby Sue, Fran Lavery, Sam1, Bella Regazza, FABreader, lamsey2010, geuss, (who I can never reply to because your private message settings are turned off!) HappyDanceAnnie, Red Hardy, Ship's Cat, Leese, quiller and LMC. Whenever I need cheering up I just go and read all your reviews for Shore Leave. Some of you guys should be on the stage! (Sweeping up after the acts. LOL.) And to Sam Winchester for her 'Lessons In American Men' part 2 (or possibly 3) and other suggestions._

_Oh man, I am really feeling the love. _

_I dedicate the Gordon content of chapter 17 to Louise H, quiller, Bella Regazza and everyone else who loves the redheaded lad. _

_And please, keep the fighting over Scott clean. I hate the sight of blood and grown women crying. Besides, everyone knows he's mine. :-)_

_**A/N. **I've been asked by a couple of people about words like 'bloody' and 'shagging' which Americans don't say. However I never made it clear that Karen and her mate Cathy are Australian! I've never actually said where they lived so apologies for any confusion. Their town of Livesy is fictitious, and Katyville General Hospital is also fictitious. They're kind of somewhere vaguely on the outskirts of Sydney. I always referred to where they were as 'the mainland' but even Australia wouldn't really be 'the mainland' where Tracy Island is located. (Wherever that is. Probably somewhere near to Gilligan's Island for all we know..."skippeeeerrrr".) Ooh, there's a crossover for you._

_**Disclaimers: I don't own the Tracys. But the OCs are mine. Shore Leave is written for fun not profit and is Rated M for adult content.**_

_####_

The sharp, unpleasant smell of something like ammonia brought Karen back to her senses. She came round to find herself sitting in the middle of the road supported by the man from International Rescue, who was waving some kind of vial under her nose.

"What the hell...?" she spluttered, pushing his gloved hand away. Her eyes were streaming and her throat was sore from whatever he'd brought her round with, plus acrid smoke inhalation.

"I could say the same thing," the man responded sternly through the visor of his heat suit. "What, may I ask, were you and your friend doing, sneaking around a Danger Zone like that? Aren't you old enough to know better?"

"Cathy! Hey, where _is_ Cathy?" Karen asked, struggling to disengage herself from the man's grip. The noise of sirens and people shouting orders stabbed into her brain, disorienting her further.

"Don't worry about her, she's fine. She's where you ought to be, behind the police cordon getting her lungs checked for smoke damage." The man looked around, beckoned to a firefighter. "Hey, over here, please. This lady need escorting off the scene too."

Karen realised she only had one chance before the firefighter reached them and hustled her away. As the man from International Rescue prepared to get to his feet, she looked him squarely in the eyes. "You're Scott," she said. "You're Scott Tracy. Aren't you?"

She flinched at the sudden and immediate change of expression in those eyes. The flash of surprise, then keen suspicion. They darkened, became guarded under lowered brows. She even felt his body stiffen as she leaned against him. He said nothing, just glared at her. She felt instantly intimidated.

The firefighter was there, reaching for her arm. "Come on now, miss. We'll get you to a checkpoint. You've been breathing in smoke for too long."

"No, wait." The man from International Rescue held up a gloved hand, never taking his eyes off Karen. The firefighter hesitated, then backed away a little. The man leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. As he leaned closer still, Karen leaned back against his supporting arm, more than a little worried. Her throat constricted and she coughed.

"Your voice," he said softly. "I know you, don't I? Or at least, I think I know you. Am I right? Do I know you?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I'm Karen," she said in a small voice. I'm...I mean, you're..." she could barely say the words, "...you're Scott. You're John's brother."

She heard the whistle of air that hissed between his teeth. She wasn't sure if he was swearing or just breathing out.

Suddenly there was a commotion as another man wearing an identical heat suit came running towards them, his boots thwacking on the tarmac. "Scott! Scott, what the heck is going on? We're waiting on your inst..." The man stopped abruptly at the sight of Karen half lying, half sitting in Scott's arms. "What gives?" he asked, no less suspiciously.

Scott looked up at the man. "Gordon," he said with a tone she really didn't like. "Meet _Karen_. John's girlfriend."

####

John sat at the Comm console with his head buried in his hands, his fingers working through his hair, pulling roughly at his fringe. "No." he kept saying. "No...no, no...no...no..."

Brains stood nervously beside him, his hand on John's shoulder. John was literally shaking.

"It's okay, John," Scott was saying. "It's okay. We can handle this. Don't worry."

"Where is she now?" John said, his voice strained and anxious, his face as white as a sheet.

"Gordon took her to the Sickbay in Thunderbird 2. Look, John. What's done is done. One thing's for sure, I'm asking dad to see if it's possible to at least try and remove picturesof us from the internet. If she can put two and two together this easily, anyone can. We can tell him she did us a favour."

"And then he can systematically kill us all, one by one," John groaned, "and get a whole new bunch of people in who know how to keep a secret."

"John, stop it. This isn't your fault. It'll be okay. We're looking after her. Nothing's going to happen. I'll handle dad."

"No, Scott, it's my responsibility, and it_ is _my fault."

"John,_ I'm_ the one she recognised. Let me deal with dad. Anyway, look, I've got to go. Virgil and Alan are down in the basement of the museum getting people out. Looks like there may be a couple of fatalities. Let's get this all into perspective, okay? Karen's alive, some people aren't. She's with Gordon, she's fine. I'll talk to you later. Don't breathe a word to dad until I say so. Okay, John? You hear me?"

"Okay, Scott, okay. God, please, whatever you do, take care of her. Don't be hard on her. She's no threat to us. She really, really isn't. I _know_ her. She wouldn't hurt a fly. Please, Scott. She'll be scared."

"We'll look after her, John, you know we will. And don't worry, I'll be nice. If there's any roughing-up to be done, I'll leave it to Gordon." There was a hint of a smile in Scott's voice. John didn't know whether to feel relieved by it or annoyed. "Right, John, I'm signing off for now. I'll check in again soon. Brains, make sure he stays calm. Sit on him if you have to. F.A.B."

John turned in his seat and looked up at Brains. "This is a nightmare," he said softly. "I can't believe it. Dad is going to _kill_ me."

Brains patted his friend's shoulder. "It'll be, ah, fine, John. You know, it's, ah, surprising that this hasn't, ah, happened before. It's getting harder and, ah, harder to keep an organization such as ours, ah, secret."

"Tell that to dad," John muttered. "Jesus H. Jones. Who would have thought it would be so difficult for a healthy red-blooded twenty five year old man to have a freakin' _girlfriend?_" He swivelled the chair hard, kicking out with his boot at the communications console.

"Ah, John, take it easy," said Brains. "I'll make us both some, ah, herbal tea."

"Herbal...? Brains, screw herbal tea."

"I'll, ah, make it anyway. What you do with it is, ah, entirely up to you."

John watched the young scientist go. He stayed at the console, swivelling the chair round and round, imagining half a dozen nasty ways in which his father could punish him. _No more shore_ _leave, ever. In fact, no more leaving Tracy Island to go _anywhere,_ as you clearly can't be trusted. Forget having a life. Forget book launches, forget science conventions, forget all of it. You're grounded, son. Grounded for the rest of your life, and your girlfriend will be given a full frontal lobotomy. _But dad. _No buts,_ _John. This is much worse than the time you put a homemade firecracker up the exhaust pipe of Fred Nelson's pickup truck and nearly blew the poor old coot sky high. Now go to your room. And stay there. Forever._

John sighed heavily and got up from the chair. He approached the kitchen and stood leaning against the doorway, watching his friend make herbal tea. "What flavour is it this time?" he asked, screwing up his face. "Donkey tail and milk thistle?"

"Peppermint," said Brains, ignoring John's mild sarcasm. He poured hot water into two mugs. "It, ah, calms the nerves and is, ah, good for digestion."

"That may be so, but I'd sooner have a bottle of whisky and some Quaaludes." John sat down at the table and gratefully accepted the sweet minty tea. "Thanks, Brains. Well, guess we ought to drink a toast, eh?" he lifted his mug towards his friend.

"Ah, to what, John?" asked Brains suspiciously.

"To what could quite possibly be my last day on Earth. Or, for that matter, _any_where."

####

Karen sat huddled in the middle of the small cot with a warm blanket wrapped around her. She wasn't cold, but the second man- Gordon- had provided it anyway. _For comfort,_ he said. And he was right- it was comforting. It gave her something to cling to, wind her fingers around. Hide herself in.

The second biggest shock of the night had been the enormous green flying machine that she was sitting in now. _Thunderbird 2, _Gordon had called it. He had escorted her inside, straight to sickbay. _Sorry no grand tour,_ he'd said. He settled her on the cot and produced some sort of breathing apparatus from a small locker. Then he'd removed his headgear and his gloves and sat on the cot beside her, holding out a rubber mouthpiece.

"You'll have breathed in some smoke, so this checks your lung capacity and makes sure you haven't scorched any lung tissue," he said. Obeying his instructions, she breathed into the mouthpiece, staring at him all the while. He looked absolutely nothing like John. He had a messy mop of thick,coppery hair that fell in hanks over his forehead and gave him a boyish demeanour. He had warm, light brown eyes and impossibly high cheekbones. His mouth was wide and expressive, sometimes serious, sometimes twitching into a smile at some private joke. She stayed silent, too nervous to speak, letting him carry out his tests. He was physically dissimilar to John, but he had a way of quirking his eyebrows that was so familiar to her. When she saw that flicker of John's expression across his features, she felt a little better.

After performing the necessary health checks, Gordon went to fetch her a drink. _Whatever Virgil keeps on this heap of junk,_ he'd grinned. Then he'd disappeared through the hatch and hadn't returned.

She was desperate for news of John. Where was he? Was he here? She had spoken to him not long ago...

Oh God, that phone call. She twisted her fingers nervously around the blanket. She felt ashamed of the way she had blithered on about calling International Rescue, going on about them being heroes and sounding so proud of herself! No wonder he had been angry. This explained everything. John was angry because John was a member of International Rescue_, _and she was wasting their time.

_John was a member of International Rescue!_

She couldn't stop repeating that sentence over and over in her mind. John. Her John. _International_ _Rescue. _And she'd thought being an astronaut was cool!

No-one had actually confirmed it yet, though. Once Scott had found out how she knew who he was, he hadn't answered any more of her hurried questions, in fact he'd ignored her completely. Neither had he or Gordon volunteered any information. Understandable, really.

She was terrified that John would finish with her when he found out what she'd done. What if she'd jeopardised his job? What if they weren't going to let her go?

_What if that's what the guns were for?_

She literally jumped out of her skin with a yelp when Gordon came back through the hatch again. He was carrying a bottle of energy drink. He frowned at her as she cowered back against the bulkhead.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his coppery eyebrows pulling together.

"What's going to happen to me?" Karen blurted, and then the rest of her words came out in a sudden torrent of panic. "I didn't mean to call you guys out, I shouldn't have done, I don't know what I was thinking, only I heard you saved so many people at that cricket stadium, but this was only a fire, I guess now, thinking about it, the fire brigade could have handled it, I just got carried away, I didn't know you were anything to do with John, he never said...oh, but of course he wouldn't say, you're a secret organization, I had no idea he was anything to do with..."

"Whoa, Nelly," said Gordon. "Take a breath. Smoke in your lungs, remember?" He approached the cot and held out the drink. "Pipe down and drink some of this."

Karen held out a shaky hand and took the drink, popping the top off. She sipped the cool fruity liquid, grateful for the sugar content while Gordon watched appraisingly, pushing the hair back from his forehead with long, sturdy fingers.

"So," he said, leaning against a small cabinet in the corner. "You know that I'm meant to be guarding you, don't you. In case you try to leave."

Karen gulped, almost choking on a mouthful of juice. "What?"

"Well, you _know_ about us now." Gordon went on. "We can't have you running about with that kind of information, can we?"

"What do you mean?" Karen felt panic rising again. "Where's John? Please let me speak to John! He'll tell you I'm...I'm...legit! Kosher! Not a threat! Where is he? Where's John?"

"Calm down. In any case, he's not here."

"What? Where is he?"

"Far away. Which is probably a good thing for you, right now."

_Oh God, I knew it, he hates me, it's over._ She felt tears of panic rising and fought to blink them back. "What are you going to do with me?" she said quietly.

Gordon shrugged, stuck out his lower lip. "Guess that's up to Scott. He's in charge. Normally, I'd say be afraid, be very afraid, but I think Scott is the least of your worries right now."

Karen pushed herself back even further against the bulkhead. "You're not threatening me, surely?"

"Me?" Gordon smiled. "No, _I'm_ not threatening you. I'm merely the cannon fodder round here. As long as I do what I'm told, I'm okay. But our boss runs a tight ship, you know? Anyone steps out of line and it's..." Gordon mimed slicing across his throat, "ffttt. Adios, amigo."

"No," Karen whispered. "You're a rescue organization, surely you don't go around..."

"What? Say it."

"Well, _dispatching_ people."

"That's your word, not mine."

"But...!" Karen's eyes widened, her cheeks flushed. "I didn't do anything wrong! God, not intentionally! Honest to God, I thought I was doing the right thing!"

Gordon slowly examined the fingernails of his left hand, then let his eyes bore into hers. "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," he muttered ominously.

"Well, if calling out a rescue organization for the purposes of rescuing people can be classed as a good intention, then yes, I guess I'm going straight to Hell!"

"Spunky, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You've got spunk. _Chutzpah_. But I'm afraid that's not enough to save you now." With these words, Gordon reached behind his back to the waist band of his heat suit.

Karen squealed in terror, pulling the blanket right up to her nose and crouching down into a ball.

Gordon narrowed his eyes at her, hesitated for just a fraction, then whipped his hand out from behind his back.

Karen screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the bullet to rip its way through her flesh. When something hard hit her on the knee she flinched and fell sideways, her heart pounding like a jack hammer.

After a few moments, when she realised she wasn't dead, she slowly opened her eyes.

There was a chocolate bar lying on the bed.

Gordon started roaring with laughter, pointing right at her. "You should see your face!" he howled, slapping his thigh.

"You fucking maniac!" she shouted, just as someone else came through the doorway.

"So _this_ is where it's all happening," said the heat suited new man who was also covered from head to toe in black grime and soot and smelled like a chemical barbecue.

Karen blushed furiously. "I didn't mean...God, I'm sorry!"

Gordon was cackling like a hyena. "She thought I shot her!" he grinned.

"You're a riot, Gordo," the new man said laconically.

Karen picked up the chocolate bar. "I thought this was a bullet!" she protested.

"Hmm. Death by chocolate?" the grimy man said.

_That_ made her laugh. Although it came out as more of an indignant splutter.

"Two kids died," the man said, effectively stopping the laughter. "Smoke inhalation. We found them in the gift shop. Pockets stuffed full of nick nacks and Exhibit A, one canister of lighter fluid." He reached up and pulled his filthy headgear off. He was young, younger even than Gordon, with a thick head of hair that was even blonder than John's, if that was possible. He turned and looked at Karen properly. He had bright blue eyes and a determined, almost churlish set to his jaw.

"Er, should I even be seeing your faces?" Karen asked, looking from one to the other and back again.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"Well, no! But, _you_ don't know that." As soon as the words were out, she was aware of how they sounded. "Shit! Me and my stupid mouth. I didn't mean that. Honestly. I can be trusted. Please believe me."

"A word of caution," the young blond man said. "I wouldn't go joking like that around Scott. He's got a serious bee in his bonnet about this. Do you know how much trouble we could be in?"

Karen swallowed, feeling the tears welling up again. "I'm so sorry," she stammered. "But I never thought for one minute that it would end up like this. John's going to kill me, isn't he?"

"There's a long line of people who are all gonna kill each other if this isn't handled properly," said Gordon, serious now. "Our boss..." he exchanged a look with the younger man, "...is the one to watch out for. Then Scott. Compared to those two, the rest of us are pussycats. As for John, he'll end up having a nervous breakdown before he gets around to killing anyone else."

They both laughed at this, which Karen thought was unkind. She glared at them as hard as she could, which under the circumstances wasn't very hard at all. She couldn't bear the thought of John having a nervous breakdown. And to know she was the cause of it!

There was a noise outside the tiny Sickbay. More footsteps. And then a third man dressed in a full head to toe heat suit poked his head through the hatch and gestured to Gordon and the blond boy. "Outside, fellas. Come on." Only then did the man turned towards Karen and nod a wordless acknowledgement. She noticed his eyes were a deep caramel brown colour. Soft eyes. Warm eyes. Concerned eyes. This man wouldn't hurt anybody. She suddenly wanted him to stay.

Gordon and the blond boy shrugged briefly at her and exited the room behind the third man. She heard muted talking, a brief thread of conversation, what sounded like the start of a heated discussion, abruptly ended.

And then Scott appeared in the hatchway, tall and broad and imposing, those shock-inducing eyes staring right at her.

Once again she felt herself shrinking back, the blanket pulled tightly up to her chin. Scott stood just inside the hatch, looking at her for several long, drawn-out moments. Then he strode over to the cabinet that Gordon had been leaning on and removed his headgear, setting it down gently. He turned to face her and leaned back against the cabinet, his arms folded across his chest.

"So, who are you?" he said without preamble.

"Um, I told you, I'm _Karen_..." she found she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. He was even better looking up close, which made it hard to concentrate.

"Come on, quicker than that. Name, age, place and date of birth, mother's maiden name, favourite colour, _shoe size_..." with every rapid-fire demand he snapped his fingers loudly, making her blink, blink, blink, blink.

_Stop it!_

"Um...Karen...Meadows, um...December eighth...ah...Katyville General Hospital..."

"Where's Katyville?"

"Er...it's on the outskirts of Sydney."

"We'll check the records."

"Be my guest."

Scott frowned darkly. "Don't be smart."

She squared her chin. "Mother's maiden name is Fields. And yes, before you point it out, my mother went from Fields to Meadows."

"I wasn't going to point it out, but thanks for bringing it to my attention."

"There's no need to be sarcastic," she said defensively. "I'm answering all of your questions, and I'm being truthful."

His jaw tightened. Visibly. He looked like he was grinding his molars. "Keep going," he muttered.

"What does my shoe size or favourite colour matter?"

"It doesn't," Scott said tersely. "I'm looking at the _way_ you answer the questions. Your body language, for a start."

Karen squirmed, pulling the blanket around herself.

"What are you doing under that blanket anyway? It's looking kind of busy in there."

Karen felt sudden anger prickling at the back of her neck. She grabbed hold of the blanket and flung it at him, but it fell short and he stared at it as it flopped to the floor. "There." she snapped. "Happy?"

He raised those deep blue eyes back to her face. "No," he growled. "I am very far from happy, and you are _not_ helping."

"I'll help if you stop treating me like a criminal! Talk to John! In fact, let _me _talk to John! In all of this, he's the only one I haven't been confronted by, and he's the only one who can vouch for me!"

"Then maybe I need to explain the situation more fully._ I _am in charge of things here. I'm the Field Commander. You pulled stuff from the internet about me, you'll know I served for years in the United States Air Force. I take orders from my superiors and I give orders to my juniors. I do _not_ let people like you tell me what to do. My job right now is to ascertain who you are and whether you're genuine. Asking John whether you're genuine is a bit like asking Romeo if he thought Juliet was really suitable. _I _need to know. So please, don't get all uptight and rebellious, because I've seen attitudes like yours a million times before. You help me, and you'll be helping John. Because if this all backfires on my little brother, you are never going to hear the end of it. Ever."

Karen fell silent. Looking at him, with his frightening expression of contained rage, she had no doubt he was deadly serious. She had messed up big time. She needed to redress the balance, and quickly, before she lost all credibility, and John.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly, lowering her eyes in submission. "I don't think I fully appreciated the severity of the situation."

Scott stood quietly watching her, his eyes flickering rapidly across her face. Karen glanced up again, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you understand it now?" he said at last. "If our secrets got into the wrong hands, and believe you me, there are some _very _wrong hands out there, the results would be catastrophic. Even our closest associates, some of whom have known us for years, don't even know about International Rescue. So the speed at which you went from being just someone John met for a bit of fun on the last days of his vacation, to sitting here now _in the sickbay of Thunderbird 2_, is _more_ than enough to arouse my suspicions." He held his hand up as she began to protest. "Those are my words, not John's. John thinks you're the best thing since the advanced particle accelerator."

Was that a twinkle in his eye? It was there and gone in an instant.

"I love him," she said simply. "If you want complete and utter honesty, that's the best I can give you. I wouldn't do a thing to jeopardise his position. Um..." she looked at her hands sadly, "...I mean, any more than I already have."

"You've certainly made your mark," Scott agreed. "And I do remember talking to you on the phone last week. If I'm to be honest myself, my very first impression of you was that you were okay. But see, I've met other people who were 'okay' at first, and they turned out to be anything but. You've put yourself in a position now where we really can't afford to just brush it off and say 'yeah, she's John's girl, she's fine, no sweat.' You understand?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"So." Scott shifted against the cabinet, settled his weight on his left foot with his right foot crossed at the ankle, arms folded. "Tell me, why did you call us out today? There are plenty of other emergency services here. What gave you the idea to call International Rescue?"

_Oh God. This was going to sound pitiful._

She shrugged. "You're heroes," she admitted. "You were at that stadium disaster in South Africa. They said on the news that dozens more people would have died if International Rescue hadn't been there. So when the museum started burning, all I could think of was the children in there. And John visited there on his vacation. The thought of someone like John burning to death made me panic. Plus, I _know_ people who work there. The lady in the Gift Shop, the guy who takes the kids on DinoTours. The people in the cafe. To think they might have been killed because of some snot nosed, limp dicked little bastards..."

Scott's eyes widened at her sudden vulgarity and anger. "Take it easy," he said.

"Oh, but Scott," she said, boldly using his name, "the trouble we've had with those undisciplined kids, it's unbelievable. Smoking dope in the washrooms, insulting decent, law-abiding people, old people, and my friend Cathy, who is just the most wonderful human beings I've ever met, and just generally being horrible little shits. We've never been able to get them barred from the building. They monopolise the Media Room. No-one has ever made them account for anything. I am so _pissed off _with them_."_

"Well," said Scott, pushing one hand through his thick hair, "two of them are dead now and the other two are being held by police. Although I'm sure it's safe to say that that won't make you feel a whole lot better."

"No, of course it doesn't." Karen twisted her fingers together, surprised to find tears welling in her eyes. _What a day this_ _was turning out to be._

Scott surprised her by coming over to the cot and sitting down. The cot creaked loudly under his weight as he made himself as comfortable as possible on its tiny frame. "The museum is finished," he said gently, "but those two boys were the only fatalities. All your friends and colleagues are safe."

Karen couldn't stop the tears now. She didn't want to. Fear and panic and anxiety all combined with blessed relief and she finally buckled under the strain of trying to hold it all together._ Her friends and colleagues were all safe. Eric the DinoTour man and Gift Shop Phyllis, the little old lady that stood on the steps feeding the pigeons even though she wasn't supposed to and all the kids with their school bags and screams and throwing of snack packets and sweet wrappers. They were all safe. She would never complain about picking up after them again. Never._

Scott scooted over and put his arms around her shoulders. He was getting good at this comforting business- first John and now Karen. He was definitely going to have to come up with a suitable nickname for these two. _Ladies and gentlemen, get your umbrellas out for_ _Mr. Falls and his wife, Victoria. _

Karen sobbed and sobbed, her hands balled into fists against her chest, her head on Scott's shoulder, her snotty nose pressed into his neck. "I'm so sorry," she kept saying. "I'm so sorry."

Scott didn't say anything. He just held her tightly, his cheek on the top of her head. Just like John, she had a lot of wound up tension that needed to be released.

It was uncanny how similar they seemed. No wonder his little brother had fallen so hard.

"It's all right," he said at last, drawing back. "Here, let me get you some tissues." He got up and went over to a small locker. "Getting a little streaky there, Panda," he smiled. "You want some eye wash?"

Karen nodded, embarrassed. "And a mirror if you've got one."

"Where's your bag?" he asked, returning to the cot. "All the women I've ever known carry huge bags _full_ of crap for fixing their faces." He handed her a wad of tissues and some Optrex.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed suddenly. "My bag! I must have left it behind that tree! It's got my keys in it and everything! Shit! Oh, Scott, can you get Gordon or someone to look for it? It's green corduroy with a big red ladybird stitched on the front."

"Well, no-one in their right mind would go near a bag looking like that," Scott said drily, "but sure, I'll get someone to check." He spoke into his wristwatch while she wiped the smudged mascara from her tear streaked cheeks. Then he sat forward on the cot with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

"Two weeks you've known John, right?" he said, looking sideways at her, following the movements of her hand as she dabbed at her face.

"Yes," she nodded. "I know it's not long, but I do love him. Really, I do."

"You know what? I believe you. Well, I'm starting to believe you, no offence meant."

"None taken."

"It's the boss you have to convince. Two weeks and you already know about us. That is seriously worrying, not to mention embarrassing for our organization. And I apologise in advance, but you are going to get put through the shredder many, many more times, and a lot worse than what I just did, before our boss is convinced you're for real. Just a warning."

Karen sniffed, wiped at her nose with a wet tissue. "Gordon said he and the blond man were pussycats compared to you and the boss."

"That blond man was Alan. And yes, they're right. But I wouldn't underestimate them either. One thing's for sure. You're not going to get an easy ride. Your next encounter with Johnny isn't going to be the heartfelt flowery reunion you'd hoped for. He's like a dog chasing his own tail at the moment. It's not good seeing him like this. He's usually such a calm, self-possessed guy. Where International Rescue is concerned, our John is like the centre of the storm. And another thing- he's the only one who knows how to stand up to me _and get his own way."_

"John stands up to you?" Karen was speechless. Then she remembered how John had sent his brother some message on that first night she'd spent with him and said "_hopefully that's the last_ _we'll hear from him."_

"He does, and he does it well. He's no shrinking violet, despite his penchant for pastels."

"John doesn't wear pastels," she protested. "He's all man."

"Er, TMI," Scott said, with a crooked smile. "Before you start." He tapped his own shoulder at the spot where Karen had left the hickey on John. "I saw what you did to him."

Karen blushed scarlet. "I might have known he'd parade his scars," she muttered.

"Scar-_s_? He didn't mention any other ones!" Scott raised his dark eyebrows. It transformed his features immediately. Now he looked like someone on the verge of laughter. It suited him.

"Oh his back. There were a few, um, scratch marks."

Scott's sudden bark of laughter was throaty and quite unbelievably sexy. Karen blushed even redder. "_Wait_ until I see that kid. He never breathed a _word_!"

Gordon appeared in the hatchway. "Whose monstrosity is this?" he asked. In his outstretched hand he was holding the strap of Karen's green ladybird bag.

"My bag! Oh, thank you, thank you!" Karen swooped on it, opened it up and promptly emptied its contents out to make sure everything was there. The two men watched as keys, pens, sweets, lipstick, mascara, a hairbrush and lastly half a dozen loose non-applicator tampons fell out and rolled across the cot.

There was a long, embarrassed silence during which Karen stared at the tampons, her cheeks burning, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Gordon coughed a couple of times and turned around, suddenly appearing very interested in a couple of rivets near the top of the bulkhead. Scott edged away from the innocuous looking tiny white items like a cat whose paw had just touched water.

"I hope those aren't bugging devices," he said. "Because I'd hate to think where you're going to put them."

As Karen scrabbled, mortified, for the offending personal products and Gordon muffled his laughter behind his hand, Scott reached across the cot for the neglected chocolate bar and held it up in the air, looking from Karen to Gordon and back again.

"Is anyone going to eat this thing?" he asked.

####

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18

_Hmm. Why is this piece of string tied round my finger. To remind me of the piece of string tied round my other finger. To remind me of the note written on the piece of paper by the bed. To remind me of the other note on the piece of paper on the chest of drawers. To remind me of the knot tied in my handkerchief. To remind me of the other knot tied in my other handkerchief. To remind me that if I had a third handkerchief there'd be a knot tied in that one as well._

_**To remind me to update Shore Leave!** O_O_

_So without further ado, here's chapter 18. *puff, gasp...*_

_**The usual disclaimers apply! Hooray!**_

####

"So what's going to happen to me now?" Karen asked in a small voice, having retrieved all of her embarrassing personal belongings before she made an even bigger fool of herself. She was never going to live down that tampon episode.

The other two men, Virgil and Alan, had returned minus their heat suits and she was able to get a good look at the one with the warm toffee coloured eyes. So _this_ was Virgil. He was classically handsome, tanned, with smooth, unlined cheeks and a subtle expression. His movements were economical but his alert eyes missed nothing. She could tell there was a keen mind under that thick sweep of chestnut hair.

John was right. He _did_ look like a Virgil.

Without their heat suits, Karen noticed that they all wore the same blue uniforms but with different coloured sashes and boot trim. From an aesthetic point of view, their individual colours suited them. She wondered if they had chosen the colours themselves, or had them assigned. Did John wear one of these uniforms? If so, what was his colour? She had to admit that the thought of John in a uniform of any kind was very arousing. Not to mention the fact that she was now surrounded by four handsome men who were all standing in the same small room with her and staring at her as though she were a curious alien species to be experimented on.

_Stop it now Karen. Be serious. You're in a heap of trouble, remember? They may not be going to kill you, but they are sure as hell going to make your life difficult. So wise up._

"I think you're going to have to come with us," said Scott at last.

Virgil turned his attention away from Karen and onto his Field Commander. "We can't just take her back to Base, Scott. We'll have to radio ahead."

"We can't let her loose, either," Scott replied. "Apologies, Karen, but you understand the situation. From International Rescue's point of view, you're a wild card. Your fate is partly in our hands now."

"Am I a prisoner?" Karen asked, wide eyed. "You can't take me prisoner, you're not the police, that would make me a hostage!"

Scott's expression turned pained. "I don't appreciate the word 'hostage'," he muttered.

"Well, isn't that what I am? Listen, guys, I have a home to go to. I have a mother who calls me once or twice a week. I have friends and a job and people who will miss me if they don't see me for a couple of days. I can't just vanish into thin air."

"No one said you're going to vanish into thin air." Scott rubbed his slightly stubbled cheek with one hand. "We can cover you for work- we'll call in sick for you and get you the relevant doctor's note saying you suffered smoke inhalation. That's if the library or any of those buildings near the museum are even going to be open tomorrow. As for friends and relatives, you can call them all, as long as one of us is with you when you do." At this he glanced at Virgil. "I'm thinking Tin-Tin. It'll be less invasive. Tin-Tin's a good kid, you'll like her."

"Tin-Tin's a good kid, and she's _my_ girlfriend," said the blond one called Alan, looking sidelong and slightly annoyed at his older brother.

"What about clothes? I don't have any spare ones." Karen said, pulling demonstratively at her blouse.

"Again, you can use some of Tin-Tin's. She has wardrobes full of things all shapes and sizes that she never even wears," said Scott.

"How would _you _know?" Alan muttered.

"Alan." said Virgil in a low voice. Just one word, softly spoken, but it was enough to make Alan stop.

Karen felt suddenly panicky again. "Guys, I'm really scared now," she said. "You're telling me that you're going to take me off God only knows where, on my own, without letting anyone know. And for how long? And what are you going to do with me when you get me there? Brainwash me? Get rid of my memories somehow? Cleanse my mind, like in that movie where..."

"Virge," said Scott wearily, patting his yellow-sashed brother on the shoulder, "take over for a minute, would you?"

With that, he disappeared through the hatch and exited the Sickbay.

"Oh God, I've annoyed him again," said Karen. "But you understand things from _my_ perspective, don't you? I'm really, really _not_ a bad guy. I just want to go home and crawl into bed and forget this whole day ever happened. Honest to God. And I can do it! I can wipe the whole thing from my mind. Gone. Like that. Easy." She attempted to snap her fingers, but she had never been very good at it.

Virgil smiled. "It's _not_ that easy," he said in that rich, warm voice of his. "I'm sorry. I'd like nothing better than for you to get back to normal and go home and feel safe in your own bed. That's exactly what I'd want to do. But our whole reputation as a top secret organization is at stake now. You managed to get to us after just two weeks. You can't possibly begin to understand the implications of that unless you get a sense of the whole picture. We have to go through the correct procedures. I'm sorry." he looked at his brothers, Gordon and Alan, for unspoken support.

"Virgil's right," said Alan. "But please don't be scared of us. We _are _a rescue organization, after all. Our primary ethos is to protect and help people. It's only our enemies that need to worry."

"Yeah," said Gordon, nodding in agreement. "And I shouldn't really have scared the wits out of you with that chocolate bar, but it was just too tempting seeing as you were so convinced we were gonna take you out, like we were the Mob or something."

"Gordon doesn't understand the words 'appropriate behaviour'," Alan said reproachfully, but Karen saw the look of brotherly affection that passed between them.

Virgil smiled too. Then he looked back at Karen. "If I can put your mind at rest, the place where we're going to is pretty nice. It's not like The Pentagon, there are no ominous men in black wearing shades walking around in a threatening manner. Well, maybe there are men wearing shades, but they're not ominous or threatening."

"Unless it's Scott after a sleepless night and before he's had his first cup of coffee," said Gordon with an endearingly lopsided, white-toothed smile.

Karen looked from one man to another and finally settled on Alan. "What's Tin-Tin like? Do you think we'll get along?"

Immediately Alan's expression softened and a big smile stretched across his face. "Oh, she'll be thrilled to have another girl around. She misses girl talk and gossip and stuff like that. She'll have you watching rom-coms and chick flicks all night and trying on all her different shades of lipstick."

"Yeah. Alan looks great in Wild Cherry," laughed Gordon.

"I was asleep when _they_ did that," Alan said wryly, nudging his grinning brother in the ribs while Gordon protested lamely.

This brotherly banter and affection between the two younger men was beginning to take some of the edge off her anxiety. Virgil was a comforting presence, too. He was a sturdy, broad-shouldered, companionable presence in the room. He wasn't as much of an obvious authority figure as Scott, but he looked strong-willed and resolute. It was something about the studious eyebrows. She couldn't imagine him allowing himself to be ignored, even if he wasn't the one in charge. She decided she liked him.

Momentarily, Scott returned. Now there was a man who looked imposing and take-charge.

He stood in the hatchway and gestured towards Karen with one hand out, flexing his fingers towards her. "Come with me," he said.

No way was she going to argue. Karen got up from the cot, her legs slightly wobbly. For one moment she thought he was going to take her by the hand, but he just lightly and very briefly touched her shoulder to escort her through the hatch.

"I've got a surprise for you," he said, leading the way down a short corridor and up a narrow set of steps, his boots thunking against the metal. They were on the top deck now, and heading towards the front of the aircraft.

"If I'm not supposed to see any of this, isn't this just making things worse?" Karen said softly, chancing a look at the tall man's profile.

Scott stopped and turned to face her. The corridor was tiny, the gap between them small. They were so close that she could smell a faint hint of masculine aftershave. She shifted on her feet, aware of the intimate nature of their surroundings. As for him, he just wore the same expression of mild unease that he'd been wearing ever since they'd 'met'.

"Nothing is going to get worse now," he told her. "Not while you're with us. For now, just trust our instructions." With that, he turned and carried on walking up the corridor. Karen picked up the pace and fell into step behind him, resolving not to wind him up with any more stupid questions.

He led her to the cockpit of this giant green bird. Through the bank of windows she could see just how high up they were- higher than the windows of any conventional aeroplane. Karen wasn't afraid of heights, but this was pretty impressive. They were even higher than some of the nearby buildings.

"Over here," Scott said.

She went over to stand beside him and he indicated a monitor screen on the huge dash. She looked at it, curiously. There was someone on the screen. Someone with blond hair, intense blue eyes and a wry, curved smile.

"Hello, Trouble," said John.

Karen's hands flew to her mouth. It was John. _Really_ John, and he was wearing the same blue uniform as the others, only his sash was...what was that colour? Purple? Lavender?

_Lilac. _And it looked _good_ on him. So this was what Scott must have meant by 'his penchant for pastels'. How could a man make lilac look so hot?

Then again, John made everything look hot.

Karen's knees went weak for what must have been the millionth time that day. Scott concealed a smile of his own and indicated the pilot's seat beside her.

"Sit down," he said casually. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stay here with you."

"That's all right," Karen said, then instantly regretted it, yet again. What did her opinion count? Scott was in charge.

Besides, she wouldn't have noticed if all of them suddenly appeared in the room dressed as The Banana Splits. She only had eyes for one man now, and he was there on the monitor screen in front of her.

"Hi," was all she could manage.

"Hi," he said in return, looking strained.

Suddenly it was too difficult to look at him. Out of shame and embarrassment, Karen lowered her gaze.

"Looks like we're in a bit of a pickle,huh sweetheart?" John continued.

"I'm so sorry," Karen said softly, looking at her hands. "I'd give anything to turn the clock back."

"Me too, honey. Me too."

"Probably back to before you ever met me, right?" She tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out sounding too plaintive.

John chuckled briefly. "No. Not _that _far back."

"What's going to happen, John? Have I endangered your job? Are you in serious trouble?"

"No, honey, you haven't endangered my job." John looked over her shoulder at Scott, who was standing behind the pilot's seat with his arms folded. "I'm too important. Right, Scott?"

"Yes, John. You just keep telling yourself that," replied Scott gruffly.

John gave a dry laugh. "Okay, let's not waste any more time. Karen, they're bringing you back to Base, right? Scott will go on ahead and let them know what's happening. We need to stay focused now. You'll fly back with Virgil and the others. When you get to our Base, Scott and I will talk to the boss and see about me coming down to see you while you're there. I'm sure you're going to be in need of a friendly face by then, after that_ pack of wolves_ has torn you apart."

"John," said Scott in a warning tone of voice. "Keep your personal opinions out of this for now."

"Consider it done." There was something in John's tone that Karen didn't like. He sounded almost..._bitter. _"Anyhow, Karen honey, nothing is going to happen to you if you are honest and answer any questions truthfully and genuinely."

"That's what I _have _been doing," Karen protested.

"I know. I have absolutely no doubt about that." John glanced at Scott again, one golden eyebrow raised.

"I'm all right, John, really I am. The guys...your brothers, I mean, have all been very kind so far."

John frowned, peering at his side of the screen. "Your eyes look a little bloodshot."

"From the fire."

"Sure? Nothing else?"

"No. Well, maybe. I might have cried a bit when Scott told me that two kids had perished but my friends were safe. I've had a lot of mixed emotions today."

"Okay, sweetheart. I can't say I'm surprised, to be honest- it's been a rough day all round. " John sighed. "Well, we'd better get this show on the road. Stay calm, stay collected, listen to Virgil. He really is one of life's good guys. You'll be fine. Just be yourself. Don't feel you need to impress anybody. Don't make jokes, not at first. Meet the man in charge and be respectful. Believe it or not, he's a nice guy when you get to know him, but at the same time he's no fool. Trust me on that one."

"I do trust you, John. I trust you one hundred percent."

"Okay, John," said Scott, interrupting out of necessity. "I need to get moving. Contact me when I'm in the air and we'll call Base." He switched on his wrist communicator. "Virgil, Gordon, we're ready to get going. Alan, stay there and I'll escort Karen back to Sickbay."

"I have to stay in the Sickbay?" asked Karen.

"I'm afraid so," Scott said apologetically. "But don't worry, you won't be alone. Alan will keep you company."

Karen turned her attention back to the monitor. She wanted so badly to touch the screen, to touch John's face. She wanted him to hold her and reassure her that she wasn't a bad person. She wanted to be with him and him alone, no outsiders, no complications. She wanted him to make love to her, slowly and skilfully, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Instead she just smiled weakly at his image, and kicked herself all the way back to Sickbay for not telling him out loud, and in front of Scott, that she loved him.

On the way back down to Sickbay, Scott and Karen passed Virgil and Gordon on their way up.

"You okay?" Virgil asked her. His eyes were smiling. He obviously knew who she'd been speaking to.

"Yes, thank you. I feel a lot better," she replied. And the funny thing was, _she did._

Alan was in the Sickbay waiting for them to return. He had fetched Karen some more energy drink and some snacks from the tiny galley area.

"I apologise to madam for the in-flight menu being a little restricted today," he said with a polite smile. "But chocolate raisins, while not exactly filling in such small quantities, are actually quite tasty, and highly nutritious."

"Don't mind him, he's delusional," said Scott. "Okay, Karen. You need to stay here while we're airborne. This is purely for our own health and safety reasons. We need to travel with the minimum of fuss, and today we've already kind of exceeded our minimum-of-fuss requirements. All I want to do now is get back to Base without any more incidents. Understood?"

"Yes..." Wow...she'd almost said_ sir._

"Great. And don't worry about being left on your own- Alan will stay here with you. The journey will take just over an hour, but he'll give you a mean game of checkers if you're nice to him. Isn't that right, Alan?"

"King of The Hill where checkers is concerned," replied Alan with a nod of his blond head.

"I'll see you back at Base, then." Without another word, Scott turned on his booted heel and left the Sickbay.

"So, what did you make of _him?_" asked Alan after Scott had gone, gesturing towards the cot for her to sit down again.

There was no point denying it. "A little scary," Karen admitted.

"It's his job to take charge," Alan said, picking up a chocolate bar and unwrapping it. "But when you see him off duty, he's a different person." He snapped off a third of the bar for himself and handed Karen the rest, still in its wrapper. She accepted gratefully when she realised she was actually very hungry. "None of us wants you to be afraid," Alan went on, "but it _was_ a huge shock when we realised someone- and a civilian, at that- knew who we were, all because of a simple set of circumstances."

Karen said nothing, just ate her chocolate quietly, feeling guilty and subdued.

Momentarily, she became aware of a low humming sound. Then a mild vibration in the framework of the cot, which increased gradually to a low frequency hum and then a whine of engines starting up. She stared wide-eyed at Alan over the rising noise levels, wondering what she should do. He went over to the bulkhead and pulled out two small folding seats with harnesses attached.

"Just until we get up to our cruising level," he said reassuringly, helping her into the seat nearest the cot.

Karen's mouth went completely dry. "This is really happening, isn't it?" she uttered as Alan pulled the harness straps over her shoulders. "It's really, really happening. I'm in an International Rescue airplane."

"We prefer to call her Thunderbird 2," Alan grinned. "She's Virgil's baby- he won't hear a word against her. When we get back to Base, tell him it was the worst trip you've ever had. Then stand back and watch him blow." The young blond man laughed softly at his own mental image as he hopped up into the seat beside her and fastened his own safety belt.

The whine increased to a low rumble, and then a sudden, powerful roar. Karen gripped the edge of her seat with both hands, staring helplessly at Alan.

"Okay, this is it," Alan said. "We're on our way. Don't worry, everything's fine. She's loud, but she's safe."

Karen swallowed hard past the dry lump in the back of her throat. She dug her nails into the seat and stared at the floor. Thunderbird 2 shuddered beneath her like an awakening dragon. And then, with a final tremble that ran through her body from the soles of her feet right up to the top of her head, she felt the great lumbering beast begin to lift.

She looked at Alan.

Alan looked at her and winked.

_There was no going back now._

_####_

_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19

_Hi again everyone! I see there's T-r-o-u-b-l-e brewing on the review pages, I told you not to fight over Scotty, (LOL) I don't want any tears before bedtime! Seriously though, **Shore Leave has the best and funniest review pages for any story ever!** And I am dying to smell both Bvlgari Black and Black XS, both recommended aftershaves for our favourite frowny-faced Field Commander. Mmmmmmmmm..._

**_The usual disclaimers: The fabulous Tracy family (including the masculinely fragranced Scott) do not belong to me, but the lucky OCs who find themselves in the presence of these wonderful beings are. Shore Leave is Rated M for adult content and is written for fun not profit. Alas._**

####

Airborne at last, Scott deftly manipulated Thunderbird 1's controls until the gleaming reconnaisance craft reached its cruising height and levelled off. Immediately he leaned forward and opened the communication link to John in Thunderbird 5.

John appeared on screen looking...scared? No, maybe scared wasn't the right word.

Apprehensive. Yes, he was certainly looking apprehensive.

"You okay, John?" Scott asked, frowning at his brother's image.

"About as okay as anyone would be who's just about to get a pounding," John admitted. "This is killing me, Scott. We need to get this over with before I do something nasty to Brains."

"Hey, ah, ah, leave me ah, out of this," came Brains' voice from somewhere off screen.

Despite himself, Scott smiled. Brains was turning into 'one of the guys' more and more every day.

"Okay," he said gruffly. "Opening a channel to Base now. Stay online John, I'm not taking the flak for all of this on my own."

####

Tin-Tin and Grandma Tracy were laughing merrily in the kitchen as they prepared apple pie treats for the boys to devour upon their return. Scott's penchant for their sweet dessert treats was a running joke in the Tracy household. Apparently he'd once demanded apple pie even after rescuing a blackbird that had somehow fallen into the swimming pool. Tin-Tin was remarking on Virgil's latest sartorial purchase from a recent shopping trip- a sarong, of all things. Apparently John had dared him to wear one after Virgil had laughed uproariously at a jaunty purple beret John had once worn- again after being dared by someone. (They'd forgotten who.)

Tin-Tin was just about to say something sparkling and witty to Grandma when they heard the most ominous noise they'd heard in a very long time on this island paradise.

Jeff Tracy shouting "WHAT?" so loudly that a small bird perched on the kitchen windowsill waiting for crumbs flew away in alarm.

####

John buried his face in both hands as he and Brains listened over the three-way link to his father's reaction to the news that they had a passenger on board.

"What do you mean, a 'passenger'?" Jeff said loudly. "We don't carry passengers. _What are you talking about, Scott?"_

"Now just listen for a moment, dad. I'll explain everything." Scott said, quite reasonably.

"Explain everything? What the heck is there to 'explain'? We do not carry passengers!"

"Dad. I'm trying to tell you. Please, listen."

John didn't envy Scott this task, but Scott had quite clearly told him not to get involved until he was asked to. _I don't want you ballsing everything up with your sarcastic comments,_ Scott had said.

To be completely honest, John was very glad that Scott was doing this for him. If Scott could get them all through this, then a very large bottle of 20 year old single malt whisky was going to be in order.

"This had better be good," Jeff muttered ominously.

Scott began talking, with John listening intently to the pitch and tone of his brother's words. Scott had a versatile voice that could do many things, in many different ways, and do them all equally well. He could command, he could rebuff, he could reason, he could joke around and he could charm women with quite spectacular results. But sadly, against his own father, the magical soothing powers of Scott's voice didn't always work.

For one thing, Jeff Tracy had quite a unique voice of his own, and against Scott's more mellow way of trying to explain the situation, Jeff's brusque, deep baritone was winning over.

"So you see, father," Scott was saying, "this girl didn't have any ulterior motives when she called us out. She saw a burning building where her friends worked and acted on impulse. Then her other friend encouraged her to go walkabout and get a good look at our operation. People do it all the time, dad. It's why we have the no photos policy. Otherwise we'd be all over social networking sites before we knew it. She saw my face on the internet, apparently, and put two and two together."

John breathed out. Scott was making it sound so logical- how could their father possibly not understand?

"I see," said Jeff, his tone indicating that he most definitely did not see. "And when this..._girl,_ you say...realised she'd seen you before, what made you worsen the situation by talking to her and verifying her assumptions?"

"Ah, she practically collapsed at my feet."

Jeff growled almost, but not quite, inaudibly. "I hope you're not trying to be funny, Scott."

"No, father. I'm not. Her reaction was quite violent."

Jeff went silent.

John chewed the inside of his lip, a Karen habit. He looked at Brains nervously. Brains shrugged.

"You're still not telling me everything," Jeff muttered.

_Because you're not giving him the chance to_, thought John. The skin around his left thumbnail was becoming bloody and tattered from where he kept biting at it.

"Well, at first it was just me and my name," Scott went on calmly over the background whine of Thunderbird 1's engines. "I was quite happy to let her go with the fire services to get checked out, which would have been the end of it. But then she said something that made me sit up."

"Which was?"

Scott cleared his throat. "She said, '_you're John's brother_.'"

"John's brother?" Jeff exclaimed. "How would she know anything about..."

John stiffened, chewing a lump off his thumb.

This silence seemed to stretch on forever.

"...how would a _girl_ know anything about _John_." Jeff said at last, enunciating each word slowly and carefully as though speaking to a dimwit.

John squeezed his eyes shut.

Scott cleared his throat quite loudly this time. "Um, well, dad, because she's...because she's John's _girlfriend_."

Brains slapped John's hand away from his mouth. John immediately started chewing on his other thumb. "I'm dead," he whispered. "I'm so dead. Brains, I want you to have my telescope. Not this one, the one in my room. Betsy."

"Repeat, please." Jeff's voice was low and deathly serious. This was _not _good.

"She's John's girlfriend. You remember. The one he was telling you about?"

"There are others?" Jeff retorted drily, causing John to splutter indignantly while Brains grinned ruefully.

"Dad, please," said Scott. "She's in Thunderbird 2 right now with Virgil and the guys. We did the whole interrogation thing. She answered all our questions. I don't think she's any harm to us at all. And she clearly adores John," he added for his blond brother's benefit, who earned himself a pat on the back from Brains when they heard his words.

"Oh. So that's okay then. You pick a strange woman up off the street who _says _she's John's girlfriend and you all have a jolly little trip back to Base so that she can gain access to _all_ of our secrets."

John pulled a face of total despair. _Dad, you stubborn old._...!

Scott took a deep, audible breath. "No dad, I'm not saying it happened in any way like that. Who do you think I am?"

"Scott," growled Jeff. "do _not_ answer me back like that."

"I apologise, sir. I was out of line."

"Good. Apology accepted. You do realise the serious implications of this incident, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. I do. I asked questions. Don't worry, we've got her under close observation."

_Don't be observing her _too _closely,_ thought John somewhat irrationally. But he couldn't help it. To him, Karen was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world, and she was his, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Jeff sighed. Deeply. "Scott, I'm not happy with this situation at all."

_No shit._

"When you get back to Base I'm calling for an immediate conference. And I mean immediate. No sloping off anywhere, any of you. Everyone present, including this..._girlfriend _of John's. Is that understood, Scott?"

"Yes, sir."

"John? Brains? Because I know you've both been listening."

John and Brains exchanged a look.

"Yes, sir," said John resignedly.

"Virgil? Gordon? Because I know you've both been listening, too."

"Yes, sir," came two other voices from another comm link.

"_Immediate_. Because I am not happy with this situation. Not. Happy. At. _All_."

####

Karen was getting fidgety and restless, She sat down on the cot, then got up, then sat down again. "I'm feeling claustrophobic," she said, staring at each bulkhead and spreading her arms out. "I can almost touch both walls. Look."

"I asked if you wanted to play checkers," Alan said irritatedly. "You didn't."

"I can't concentrate on checkers. Or anything. How long until we get there?"

"You asked me that ten minutes ago. So just knock ten minutes off whatever my answer was."

"I can't remember what your answer was."

Alan shook his head. "Do you drive John nuts like this?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I'm nervous."

"_You're_ nervous. Wait until we face the boss."

"This boss you keep mentioning. Is he your father?"

Alan's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "What makes you say that?"

"Jefferson Tracy, ex-astronaut, billionaire businessman. Five sons, all high-achievers. And here you all are. I'm just making a logical progression from what I gleaned off the internet."

"This 'gleaning' of yours is what's getting you into trouble," Alan muttered. "Anyway, I am not answering that question, because it's not my ass getting kicked. For once." He folded his arms and glared at her petulantly.

Virgil's voice came over the sickbay radio. "Approaching Base now," he told them.

"Praise the Lord and hallelujah," Karen stated.

"You know, you wouldn't be talking like that if Scott were here instead of me," Alan said tersely.

"Oh, Alan, I'm sorry," Karen apologised again. "I really don't mean to sound disrespectful, but honest to God, my legs are aching and I'm tired and dirty and hungry. And I have to say, I also feel very, very alone right now."

Alan softened his expression. "I guess under the circumstances that's pretty understandable. Well, look- don't worry, it won't be long. Let's get buckled in and then we can look forward to a hot shower, a change of clothes and something nice to eat."

"Now _that _sounds good to me," Karen smiled.

####

"Conference room. _Now._"

Scott emerged from Thunderbird 1's secret wall panel to find Jeff standing right there waiting for him with arms folded and a face like a roiling cumulonimbus cloud.

"Can I at least use the bathroom?" Scott asked, trying to keep his voice mild.

"Yes, but be quick," his father snapped.

Scott shook his head incredulously as he passed both Grandma and Tin-Tin who were nervously hovering nearby.

"Oh, Scott, what's going to happen?" asked Tin-Tin, her big green eyes glistening as though she were on the verge of tears.

"Nothing if I can help it," the eldest Tracy brother said in a low voice, glancing at the two women.

"But I've never seen Mr. Tracy so upset before," the young girl went on, leaving Grandma's side and beginning to follow Scott through the villa. "And poor John! What's going to happen to him?"

Scott rolled his eyes, then turned round to face the sniffling girl. He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her in her tracks. "Tin-Tin, calm down. You always get so emotional. Nothing's going to happen. Sure, he's mad, sure, we screwed up. But crying won't make the situation any different. So don't do it. You're a member of International Rescue, remember?"

Tin-Tin stared up at Scott. Her eyes flickered over his face. He was aware that he probably looked like shit.

"You're right, Scott," she said at last. "And we're all in this conference together, including John and Brains in Thunderbird 5?"

"Yes, we are." Scott looked directly into her eyes and gave her shoulders a firm but gentle squeeze.

"All right, then." Tin-Tin reconsidered her actions and wiped a tear from under her left eye.

"Thank you, Tin-Tin," her Field Commander smiled. "Now, during this conference, I would be very grateful if you could sit next to this girl so that she doesn't feel too overwhelmed by too much testosterone and club swinging. She's had a hard enough time with us as it is, and I don't think she needs the day to get any worse."

Tin-Tin beamed up at him. "Of course, Scott. Don't worry._ I'll_ look after her."

####

Karen felt the change in air pressure as Thunderbird 2 prepared to approach Base. It was like going down in a turbo elevator. Her stomach lurched slightly into her throat and her head went giddy. Alan noticed her hand over her ear and showed her how to equalise the pressure in her eardrums. She wished there were windows she could look out of to judge just how far off the ground they actually were.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" Alan asked, concerned. He and his family were all used to the Thunderbird aircraft, but someone like Karen would be unaccustomed to the swift changes in pressure, height and speed. And she _was_ looking a little green.

She nodded, and promptly vomited onto the floor.

"Shit," muttered Alan as she began coughing. "Virgil," he said into his wrist comm, "she's throwing up. Can you go easy?"

"I can't alter the flight path, Alan," said Virgil helplessly. "Do you want me to send Gordon down?"

"Yes, please. Bring salts or something."

Karen doubled over again, but nothing came out. She clutched her stomach. "Can I lie down?" she moaned.

Alan unbuckled his harness and made short work of unbuckling hers. He helped her over to the cot as Thunderbird 2 made another descent and she was sick again, narrowly missing his boots.

Gordon clattered into the Sickbay holding a bottle of some pale yellow liquid. He sat on the cot beside Karen and held the open neck of the bottle to her lips. "Drink this, it contains rehydration salts and an anti-nausea solution," he instructed.

"You're not going to trick me again, are you?" she said, her voice shaky but smiling.

"That would make me just too twisted for words," Gordon reassured her as she sipped the sweet lemony liquid.

Alan set about swabbing the deck, as they put it when accidents occurred. Thunderbird 2 continued descending. Virgil was obviously doing all he could to keep his 'bird from lurching too much.

"See," said Alan, "now you really _can _tell Virge you had the worst trip of your life in this thing."

####

From the balcony area above the giant bay door, Jeff, Scott and Tin-Tin watched Thunderbird 2's perfect landing onto the cliff house runway. Scott had not been allowed to change out of his uniform, which had been protected under his heat suit so wasn't dirty, but he had been given permission to wash and shave and comb his hair and make himself presentable. Tin-Tin was standing next to him on his left, and as Thunderbird 2 rumbled towards the cliff, she instinctively hooked two of her fingers lightly around the ring and little finger of his left hand. Scott looked down, wishing at times that she wasn't so tactile. He was a normal, red-blooded guy, after all. But she wasn't even aware of the reactions she caused sometimes, so he decided to largely ignore the gesture and carried on watching the approach of the giant green 'bird.

"What lurks within," muttered Jeff, on Scott's right.

####

"Are you feeling better now?" Gordon asked Karen. He was still sitting with her on the bed. He'd gently pulled hair out of her eyes and reassuringly rested his hand on her shoulder as the 'bird touched down. She now found his presence unbelievably comforting, especially after the chocolate bar episode.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "But I still have no idea where we are. Or even what part of the world we're in now. Or we might even be in Space, mightn't we?"

"We're not in Space," Gordon chuckled. "Even we wouldn't be so stupid as to take an untrained civilian out of the Earth's atmosphere."

Karen laughed too. "I should have told you I'm not the best traveller, and this thing is unlike anything I've ever encountered. What is it, anyway?"

"It's a big, lumbering bucket of bolts," Gordon grinned.

"Be sure to tell Virgil the journey was so bad it made you puke," Alan added.

The huge beast felt like it had stopped. It shuddered briefly, whining. Gordon rubbed Karen's shoulder. "We're here," he said.

####

Jeff, Scott and Tin-Tin made their way back to the lounge. Jeff's expression was stony, bemused. He kept pushing his hands back over his head, smoothing his already smooth silver/grey hair. Scott and Tin-Tin glanced at each other.

"Would you like a coffee, Mr. Tracy?" Tin-Tin asked.

"No, thank you, Tin-Tin," Jeff responded. "I'll have mother bring refreshments to the conference room once we're settled. Right now I just want to get a good look at this _interloper_."

Scott rolled his eyes for what felt like the tenth time that afternoon. Tin-Tin shrugged. _At least I tried._

Jeff opened up the link to Thunderbird 5. His third son appeared on the screen straight away as if he were glued to it. Which he probably was by now, although he too had managed to have a wash and spruce himself up. Over John's right shoulder they saw Brains with a mug held in each hand. "Coffee?" Jeff asked his son.

John shook his head. "Some plant piss," he said gruffly. But he took the proffered mug from his friend anyway. His mug was red, with a big yellow smiley face on it. He held it up to the monitor, grinned broadly, and said "me, mug. Mug, me," making Tin-Tin laugh behind her hand.

"I'm glad someone finds it funny," Jeff muttered, then softened as he saw Tin-Tin flinch. "Oh, Tin-Tin, I'm sorry."

Scott put his arm protectively around Tin-Tin's shoulders.

They all waited and waited.

Finally they heard voices approaching. Gordon's excited staccato, Alan's blustery impatience, Virgil's calm, steady rationalising. And another voice, a female voice, unfamiliar to everyone except Scott.

Jeff stood up straight, smoothed his hair down one last time. He adjusted the front of his jacket, tugged at the bottom of his shirt. He cleared his throat experimentally.

Scott pulled Tin-Tin into his side, squeezed her arm. He really didn't want her to start crying.

John, on the monitor, bit his lip, chewed his thumb.

Grandma and Kyrano came through to the lounge, bringing a sweet pastry smell with them.

Everyone stood in a semi-circle waiting for the Thunderbird 2 crew to appear.

Virgil came through the doorway first, his expression wary, brows drawn. "Father," he said, by way of acknowledgement to Jeff.

Jeff nodded back. "Virgil," he said calmly.

Then came Alan. "Father," he said also, looking at Jeff first, then briefly at Scott and then finally at Virgil.

"Alan," Jeff responded, gruffly.

Both Alan and Virgil turned aside to make way for the last people to come through.

Jeff took a long, deep breath as his tousle-headed fourth son finally came through the doorway with his arm around someone's shoulders. His first thought was, is this some kind of a joke? Where's this infiltrator? This crazy woman who stalked the internet? Where is this Mata Hari spy? His eyes widened at the figure who shuffled, petrified, through the door, dragging the most ridiculous looking green corduroy bag with a ladybird stitched on it that he'd ever seen.

There was nothing of her. Nothing except the widest, most frightened looking eyes he'd ever seen on anyone. She was like a bush baby staring at him. Her flaming red hair was a mess and her clothes were all rumpled. She was shaking visibly, held tightly in Gordon's protective embrace, that silly bag hanging from her purple-nailed fingers.

There was an angry shout behind them, and they turned to see John leap to his feet and almost burst through the monitor. "Don't hurt her," he warned, then his voice dropped to a hard whisper as a clearly startled Brains pulled him back, holding him tightly around the chest. "Don't you dare hurt her."

Jeff, shaken by his son's reaction to the sight of this pathetic creature standing before him, took another long, deep breath, and stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards the frightened girl.

"Welcome to Tracy Island," he said, as pleasantly as he could muster while his four sons and the rest of his household watched him reproachfully. "I'm Jefferson Tracy."

####

_To be continued..._


	20. Chapter 20

_Greetings once again, my little chickadees. I see the action is hotting up, and that's just in the review pages. I had my 100th review, from the lovely Louise Hargadon, who wins...absolutely sod all. __Allright my gel, nice to see you, to see you...! _

_Oh, okay, you can have Gordon. But please return him in one piece._

_I really need to drink...er...smell some of that Bulgari Black and Black XS. I think the word Black has more masculine punch than if it was called Mauve XS...mind you try telling that to John. He would** totally** rock Mauve XS._

_D**isclaimers: Shore Leave is Rated M for adult content and written for fun not profit. The Tracys belong to Carlton or whoever they belong to. The lucky OCs belong to me. **_

####

The conference room table was a large, rounded, kidney-shaped affair made from a deep maroon coloured material that resembled some kind of twentieth century hardwood. The conference room itself had a kind of muted feel of authority about it, with potted plants in the corners and ambient lighting emanating softly from the walls. Two large trays of refreshments sat in the middle of the table. One contained pots of rich smelling coffee and cakes, and the other contained two pots of fragrant tea with accompanying Asian delicacies. Karen's mouth watered, despite the solemnity of her situation. She was starving.

The man called Jefferson Tracy sat directly opposite her. On his right hand side sat Scott, straight-backed and keen-eyed. On his left left sat Virgil, his swept back chestnut hair shining under the lights.

On Karen's right sat Gordon, who had decided he wasn't going to leave her side until this ordeal was over. On her left sat the young woman called Tin-Tin, whose exotic perfume reminded Karen of the restrooms in a Thai restaurant she'd once visited. Not that that was a bad thing- they'd smelled very nice, sort of flowery yet spicy at the same time.

The other members of the household were dotted around at various places. There was the older man called Kyrano, who had introduced himself as Tin-Tin's father and Mr. Tracy's personal adviser. There was the kindly, twinkle-eyed old lady called 'Grandma' who had fussed over her and tutted loudly at _"the treatment of this poor girl!" _while John agreed with her loudly from the wall monitor. Alan was sitting a chair away on Scott's right. Next to him was a large table top monitor with the screen positioned so that they could all see it. (Alan had brought the monitor to the table with the query, "where do you guys want Max Headroom?") On this screen were Brains in the background with his untidy hair and thick lensed, blue-rimmed glasses and John in front with his glossy blond curl hanging over his right eye. The sight of that blond curl, the memory of how it felt tickling lightly over her skin and the fact that her handsome, sexy, _dynamo_ of a boyfriend was sitting there wearing an International Rescue uniform_ in lilac_ was so distracting for Karen that she almost had to raise her hand to her face so that she could block him out and concentrate fully on the imposing trio of leaders in front of her.

Well. The imposing duo, and Virgil. He didn't look imposing at all. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Perhaps he'd been chosen as the mediator. In which case, she hoped his services would not be needed.

Jefferson Tracy cleared his throat and began speaking. "Fine. Now that we're all settled, let's get started. I don't want this to go on any longer than it needs to." He clasped his hands on the table in front of him and looked directly at Karen.

"You say you're John's girlfriend. Perhaps 'girlfriend' is the wrong word...to me it suggests children, or teenagers, not grown adults. You _know_ John. Is that correct?"

Karen blushed furiously. She would have preferred the simple use of the word 'girlfriend' rather than this loaded insinuation hinting at dark and sordid sexual conduct.

"Yes, sir," she answered softly.

"And you met John...when?"

"Two weeks ago, give or take a day or two. We met in the library where I worked, while he was on vacation." She glanced at the monitor, saw the hint of a secret smile tug at the corner of John's mouth. She smiled back, her cheeks aflame.

Jeff Tracy looked at his hands, frowned, then looked back at her. His blue-grey eyes were nearly, but not quite, as magnetic as John's. "I don't have to remind anyone here of the severity of this situation," he said for what felt like the twentieth time that day. "International Rescue is a _top secret_ organization. Dammit, I just don't understand how this can have been allowed to happen!"

Karen glanced at John again.

"Sir," she said, "it was entirely my fault for not believing John when he told me what he did for a living. I mean, I didn't think hewas lying, I just thought..." she stopped, knowing that if she went on without thinking then she was inadvertently going to land John in it by suggesting he didn't know how to keep secrets. She paused, decided on what she wanted to say. "Well sir, I just got curious. I'd never met anyone like him before. He told me he was an astronomer. That he wrote books. He was a published author, and to me, being just an ordinary library assistant, well, sir, it felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. Um...well, maybe not quite died and gone to heaven, just..." she trailed off for a moment, recollected her train of thought. "Sir, John made an impact on me that day that I'll never forget. I just wanted to know everything about him, who he was, where he came from, why had he suddenly appeared in my life like that. Like a tornado that literally knocked me off my feet." She looked back at the monitor, saw that John was staring back with those fathomless dark blue eyes and suddenly something passed between them. Something sharp and fast and blinding and permanent. Something that sealed a lid on what they had so that nothing else would ever get in and spoil it.

Something that made her feel as bold and brave as the first day that they'd met.

"I love him," she said, simply. "And I would never do anything to jeopardise anything that he has. Not his job, not his not his position with International Rescue, and certainly not International Rescue itself. Why would I want to? You're a force for good in this world, and God knows we need more of those, not less. I couldn't be more proud of the fact that John belongs to your organization. I know I can't shout it from the rooftops, but I can tell you I am absolutely no threat to you, sir. None whatsoever. All I want is to be with John, nothing more." She looked at John again, chewed the inside of her lip. "Um, that is, if John still wants me after all this."

"Well, whoo-ee, if _he_ doesn't, I sure do," grinned Gordon, throwing his arm around her shoulder, effectively puncturing a hole in the bubble of tension that was building up and making her blush even more.

"Gordon, that's enough, thank you," murmured Jeff, but he didn't sound too perturbed.

"I understand that I shouldn't have gone prying," Karen continued. "But until I called out International Rescue myself, I hadn't made any connection whatsoever. John certainly never said a word. I even mentioned International Rescue after the cricket stadium disaster and he never let on to a thing. Nothing on the internet even remotely suggests a connection. It was only when I physically _saw _you guys that it twigged." At this she glanced at Scott, who leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a direct gaze of his own._ There would never be any mistaking a pair of eyes like that, _she concluded. "I also heard the name 'Virgil', and you have to admit that it is pretty unusual."

At that, Virgil glanced sideways at his father. "I told you you should have called me Bill," he deadpanned.

Jeff Tracy breathed in deep. He took a long swallow of coffee. Then he spoke up again, in a low tone that made everyone sit up. "Our enemies have tried and tried over the years we've been in operation to get their hands on our secrets, and we've triumphed over them every time. I do wonder sometimes if our luck will run out one day. I can see that we're going to have to try and increase security on assignments, perhaps with the use of code names, say, 1 for Scott, 2 for Virgil, 3 for Alan and so forth. But implementing such changes often leads to the inadvertent creation of yet more loopholes, which can only lead to more problems. I just don't know what the solution is, quite frankly."

"Dad," said Scott, turning to his father, "if I can maybe say a few words in Miss Meadows' defence. If she _were_ a spy intent on stealing our secrets, then she sure didn't get very far. It's one thing to create a ruse whereby you trick yourself into an organization by appearing inept and somewhat endearing," he smiled at his own use of the word 'somewhat', "but if you then find yourself held in custody with no way of gaining access to those secrets, with the entire organization aware of you and the fact that you're carrying no hidden communications devices," he smiled to himself again, but luckily didn't make any mention of tampongate, "how can anyone say that you've succeeded?"

"Scott's right, though I hate to admit it," said Alan. "I've seen better infiltrators on Scooby Doo."

Jeff sighed. "Look, boys, I'm perfectly aware that you're all on Miss Meadows's side. After all, you have spent more time with her than me. However, I am not going to suddenly start accepting everything that you say without question. Scott, you've made a good point, but it's not a watertight theory. Alan, I daresay even the infiltrators on Scooby Doo had a modicum of success before those pesky kids became involved. I am still not entirely comfortable about recent events, therefore I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that Miss Meadows be accompanied at all times by a member of this household for the duration of her stay. Miss Meadows, I realise this probably makes me sound like a suspicious old fool, but I hope you understand my reasoning. I appreciate your sentiments regarding my son and our organization, but I still don't really know who you are. If you can bear with me, I would like to be given the time to try and resolve this issue."

Karen stared at the grey haired man in front of her. What was this spell she was falling under? No wonder her lovely John and his gorgeous brothers were the way they were. Look at the fine, upstanding block of manhood they'd been chipped from! He'd managed to tell her off and bewitch her at the same time. Why couldn't her womanising rat of a father have been like this? _This_ was how a dad should be. Courteous, respectful, kind, yet firm when firmness was needed. If only her poor mother had been married to a man like this, she wouldn't have shrunk into herself the way she did after her lousy husband left her.

_Screw you, dad,_ Karen thought. _I want this man to be my father now._

At the end of the conference, it was decided that John, with Brains, was to come back to Tracy Island for at least as long as Karen was there. Alan knew it was inevitable that he would be the one chosen to man Thunderbird 5 in John's place, so he didn't even bother to protest. Instead he told John that the hours he was owed were mounting up and up and up, and that soon he'd have enough saved for a trip around the world twice. _Monte Carlo, Acapulco, Malibu and The Gold Coast,_ he said with a comedy leer. _The Florida Keys, the Caribbean. All those bikini babes just waiting for a piece of Alan Tracy action._

_And I'd pay to watch each and every one of them shoot you down in flames,_ John had replied smoothly. But there was no mistaking the intention on his face when he looked at Karen. Her entire body tingled and went limp in her chair. Strange and wonderful things began happening in her lower regions. It was as though she could already feel him inside her, filling her to capacity, that wicked gleam in his eye suggesting that he was perfectly capable of ******* her senseless to make up for lost time. Oh God, and if he was wearing that uniform while he did it...

A hand appeared in front of her face and snapped its fingers. She hadn't even been aware that everyone had started to get up and that Scott was standing by her left shoulder.

"Wake up, little dreamer," he said. "Unless you want to sit by yourself in an empty room."

####

Karen sank back into the hot water and sighed gratefully. A bath had never felt so good. Well, apart from the one she had shared with John in the hotel. The one with the _special features_.

But that had been for different reasons. As far as sheer relaxation and feelings of cleanliness went, this bath won hands down.

She was in Tin-Tin's quarters, one level down from the boys' quarters and near to Grandma's. _So she_ _can keep an eye on me,_ Tin-Tin had laughed musically. _I'm known for my nocturnal wanderings._

Karen had been accosted by the pretty young Eurasian immediately once the pressures of the conference had ended. Tin-Tin had demanded that they go to her rooms so that Karen could get away from 'all these boys' and 'get out of her dirty old clothes,' prompting a pained look from Alan and earning a long, low wolf whistle from Gordon. _If you need any help getting out of your dirty old clothes, just gimme a call,_ he grinned with a wink.

After making sure that Karen was safely tucked away in the bathroom with the hot water running and a selection of bubble lotions and bath cremes to choose from-_"or try them all!" _shehadcried expansively_- _Tin-Tin had gone to fetch them a bottle of wine and some snacks. Karen's mouth literally began watering at the prospect of a glass of wine, drinking it while she relaxed in a sea of thick bubbles. Talk about decadence!

By the time Tin-Tin returned, Karen was chin deep in bubbles, playing with the suds, blowing wisps of them across the humid bathroom. She splished the water with her hands, stuck her big toe in the end of the tap. She'd often wondered what would happen if her toe got stuck, but she didn't have to worry now. If her toe really did get stuck, she'd just call International Rescue!

She didn't know why she was feeling so giggly. She hadn't even had a sip of wine yet. It must be the sheer relief, she thought. The ordeal was largely over. John and his brothers had convinced their father not to kill her. And she had fallen in love with their father after just five minutes of listening to his deep, melodious voice and looking at his ruggedly handsome face, in the way you would fall in love with anyone who was just so epically wonderful. Even when they were telling you off!

There was a dainty knock on the bathroom door, a call of "_yoo-hoo!_" and then a hand came though the gap waving a bottle of red.

"Oh, yes please," laughed Karen. "I think I could drink that down in one go, I'm that desperate."

Tin-Tin poked her head around the door. "If you're decent, I'll come in," she smiled, and came in anyway.

Karen stretched her wet limbs like a cat as Tin-Tin placed two wine glasses on the sink unit and poured them both a very generous amount each. The glug glug glug of the liquid was music to her ears.

"I brought you a cell phone so that you can check your answer machine back home," the younger woman said, handing Karen her glass. "Scott's a little worried that you seemed to think he was holding you hostage." Tin-Tin appeared to find this hugely amusing. "Although I can't think of many women who would complain at the thought of Scott holding them hostage."

Karen blushed, sipped her wine to hide a giggle. "He scared the shit out of me at first," she admitted. "if looks could kill!"

"Oh yes," Tin-Tin agreed. "Scott's looks can be fatal. But luckily he's very good at resuscitation."

Karen's eyes widened. Tin-Tin was wearing a look of complete innocence, but her words were loaded with ambiguity.

"That's between you and me," the girl added, lifting her own glass to her lips.

"I don't know if I should be hearing this," Karen giggled.

"Anyway," Tin-Tin said, changing tack. "Scott and Alan are right this minute preparing to go and get John and Brains, so all you need to do now is relax, drink your wine, enjoy your bath, and then we can find you something suitable to wear for our John's homecoming."

Karen drank her wine, wondering why the way Tin-Tin said 'our John' made her feel a pang of jealousy. She hoped this young girl had never carried on with John the way she was implying she might have carried on with Scott, even though she was meant to be Alan's girlfriend!

Karen hoped it was all flirtatious bluster on the young woman's part. Some women were like that, they implied lots of things that hadn't really happened just to give themselves an air of mystery. Karen didn't know Scott, but he didn't come across as the type to behave deceitfully, not from what she'd already seen of him. She decided she would enjoy Tin-Tin's company, but take all her man-talk with a pinch of salt. You couldn't live with a family of decent young men like this and carry on that way. Could you?

Just as long as she kept her beautifully manicured nails off John, that was all.

After her bath, feeling clean and a bit sleepy but oddly rejuvenated, Karen stood in the middle of Tin-Tin's bedroom wearing a fluffy pink robe as Tin-Tin pulled reams and reams of clothes out of wardrobes, cupboards and drawers. Scott had been right- half of these clothes looked as though they'd never been worn. This girl was definitely a shopaholic with too much time on her hands, it seemed to Karen, anyway.

"We must find you something nice for John," the girl was saying, holding up dresses and tops and skirts, frowning prettily at each item in turn before discarding them onto the bed or floor.

"I'm not a big lover of flounces and frills," Karen said, trying to appear helpful whilst despairing of some of the creations Tin-Tin was perusing.

"Oh, but we must find you something pretty," Tin-Tin smiled sweetly.

_Actually, I don't think John cares a damn what I wear as long as it's easily removeable,_ Karen almost said, but didn't.

"How about this?" Tin-Tin emerged from the walk-in closet with a bright yellow silk tunic covered in red and green flowers.

"Um, no." Karen was definitely sure about that. Like a Hawaiian shirt gone wrong, and they were wrong to begin with.

"This?" A lime green halter-necked sweater dress.

"Style? Yes. Colour? Too neon."

"All right, then. How about a little black dress? You can't go wrong with one of these."

"_That _takes 'little' to a whole new level," Karen declared, doing a double take at the miniscule scrap of fabric Tin-Tin was holding up against herself.

"Yes, it is rather skimpy," Tin-Tin giggled. "But it's one of Gordon's favourites. He finds it hard to see me as just his baby sister when I'm wearing one of these."

She darted back into the closet, leaving Karen shaking her head. As much as she was enjoying the company, she couldn't wait to see John and get away from this female Walter Mitty.

Finally she saw a simple floaty pale green Indian style top with subtle darker green embroidery around the neckline and teamed it with a pair of well-cut black trousers that showed just the lower half of her legs. She didn't want to look like some harlot waiting to jump John's bones the moment she saw him, even if that's precisely what she intended to do. She didn't want to humiliate him in front of his whole family by appearing in anything low cut or high leg. She wanted to be the Belle of the Ball, not the embarrassing strumpet. She wanted to feel as comfortable as if she was wearing her own clothes, even if Tin-Tin had a tinier waist and the trousers were threatening to cut off circulation to her lower half.

Luckily she had brought along her own makeup. As she rooted through her bag, she saw the tampons again and groaned. Not only had two male virtual strangers seen her tampons spilling out all over the place, now they'd be nudging John and saying things like "might have to wait a couple of days, Johnny." But she always carried tampons with her, just in case. Besides, sometimes other women got caught short. Men would never understand a woman's relationship with her sanitary products. They were more likely to look the other way completely- or just vomit.

"How long will it take for John to get back?" Karen asked through 'O' shaped lips as she applied a plum coloured lipstick.

"Oh, it shouldn't be long, now," Tin-Tin said, shoving clothes haphazardly back into cupboards and drawers. "Our machines go very fast."

"Yes, well, I threw up in that one I came here in," Karen murmured, kissing her lips together in the mirror. "It made my stomach heave all over the place. Poor Virgil was beside himself apologizing."

"He would be," Tin-Tin agreed. "Virgil hates to be the cause of anyone's misery."

"Oh, it wasn't Virgil's fault, I just have a weak stomach when it comes to travelling in huge unidentified flying objects," Karen smiled. "And I was down in Sickbay with no windows so I couldn't see the horizon. I basically got seasick, Gordon said."

"Well, if there's anyone who can help with the symptoms of seasickness, it's Gordon," Tin-Tin said. "He's got all these magnetic bracelets and things that go on your pressure points to alleviate nausea. You should ask him about them. He might want to take you out on his fishing boat, you see."

"Really?" Karen grinned. "Wow, that would be great! I haven't been on a boat in years!"

"Well then, I'm sure Gordon would be thrilled to take you out on the ocean waves," Tin-Tin said delightedly. "We could take a picnic and everything!"

Finally Karen stood in front of the mirror and appraised herself. She looked presentable now, anyway. The blouse was feminine and floaty and the nice trousers balanced out the whimsy. It was how she normally dressed. John wouldn't be unpleasantly surprised or shocked in any way. She had washed her hair with plenty of conditioner and her curls were at least trying to be manageable. They felt soft to the touch and she knew John would like that. She looked forward to him burying his face in her curls.

_All of them..._

Tin-Tin lent her a pair of comfortable silk slippers that only pinched a little bit across the toes. She did a catwalk turn and posed in the middle of the room while Tin-Tin clapped.

"You look beautiful," the girl laughed.

"So, what now?" Karen asked. "Do we just go and wait?"

"If you like," Tin-Tin said. "We can go and see what the others are doing."

They went on their way back to the lounge. As they reached the top of the stairs, Tin-Tin stopped and laid a hand on Karen's arm. "Shh," she said quietly. "Hear that?"

Karen cocked her head and listened. "The piano music?" she queried.

"Yes. That's Virgil playing."

"Virgil plays the piano?" Karen stared at Tin-Tin. "Like _that_?"

"Oh, yes. He's semi-professional. He's our resident creative genius. He paints, too."

"Well!" Karen smiled. "I'm becoming more and more impressed with Virgil by the minute!"

When they entered the lounge, Virgil literally stopped playing and got to his feet. When Gordon looked up at the sudden cessation of music, he saw Tin-Tin and Karen and stood up too.

"Ladies," said Virgil in that smooth voice of his. He was wearing a smart olive green shirt and tan pants. Meanwhile, Gordon had gone all out for sartorial elegance and changed into a double breasted suit and tie with a handkerchief tucked into the pocket. Karen looked at him appraisingly.

"You like?" he asked with a boyish grin.

"I _like_," Karen said, "but I'm wondering what's the occasion."

"Well, it's not often that we get a visitor that we don't all have to run around hiding from."

"He means Operation Cover Up," said Virgil, hitting a few melodramatic notes on the piano keys.

_Da-da-daaaaaa..._

Karen giggled. "Sounds ominous."

"Most of our visitors end up thinking we do nothing but lollygag around the pool all day like spoilt rich kids," Virgil went on.

"Whereas it's really only Virgil who does that," finished Gordon.

Virgil began playing a jaunty little number, trailing off after just a few bars. "Gordon would have everyone believe he's the only one in the room who isn't obsessed with looks and tanning. However, you really want to see him do his Baywatch impression running along the beach. At least that's what the rest of us call it."

"They're just jealous because my body rocks," Gordon said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm five feet eleven of pure, solid granite."

"In a tiny pair of red Speedoes," Virgil smiled. "Hard not to miss, really."

Gordon blushed to the roots of his hair. "It's all true, ladies. I do indeed have a pair of red speedoes, left over from my days as an _Olympic athlete_." he grinned and stared pointedly at Virgil.

Karen started laughing, then suddenly her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, wait!" she said incredulously. "you're not...oh my God, no, surely not. It was a few years ago, though, right? You swam in the Olympics. You did, didn't you? Shit! You're not _the_ Gordon Tracy, the American who won gold against all that competition from the Russians?"

Gordon grinned. "I was a lot younger then," he admitted, "but no less handsome, obviously."

"Shit!" Karen cried. "I watched it that year! You really barrelled down that lane!" She looked around at everyone else in the room. Virgil, Tin-Tin, and Jeff who had just arrived and was looking puzzled at the commotion.

"What's going on?" he said gruffly.

"I just found out that Gordon is _the_ Gordon Tracy who won the Olympic gold medal for the United States the year all those Russians were sweeping the board," Karen said delightedly. "They were all rooting for him in the bar where I watched it."

"That's understandable," mused Gordon, but he was starting to look genuinely pleased at the recognition.

"Oh, Gordon, you_ must _let me see your gold medal some time," Karen said, almost clapping her hands together with glee.

"Not something he hears very often," said Virgil, running his hand tunefully up the keyboard.

"Au contraire,Virgil mon frere, the amount of women who've handled my medal is a lot higher than the amount of women who've tickled your ivories."

"_Some_how," Virgil said, turning it into a tune, "I don't _think_ so." He leaned over and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Karen thought she could easily die of happiness in this house. She had never been anywhere like this. It was like a self-contained oasis of warmth and good humour. She couldn't believe that only a few hours ago she'd been on the verge of a full blown panic attack, scared for her very life. Virgil and Gordon, she decided, could literally keep her entertained forever.

She was about to say something when Virgil cocked his head as though hearing something that no-one else could. He held up his hand as she went to open her mouth and she immediately clamped her lips shut.

"Are they coming back already?" Gordon said, surprised. "They must really be gunning that thing."

"Is it...is it John?" Karen asked, feeling a surge of excitement and anxiety well up in the pit of her stomach.

Virgil pulled a rapturous face as though listening to the music of the Gods themselves. "I believe it _just might be_ our very own flaxen haired wunderkind," he smiled.

####

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21

_Hi everyone! Despite major problems with my crappy ISP constantly cutting off my internet connection and not bothering to fix it properly even though they know where the fault lies, I am finally able to upload._

_Thanks again for another fantastic bunch of reviews, but please note that if your private messaging settings are disabled, then I can't reply to you to thank you for them. Unless that's the intention, of course!_

_So, here goes with another exciting/lacklustre (delete as applicable) chapter of Shore Leave, and Johnny finally comes home! AT LAST!_

**Disclaimers: Okay, Shore Leave is definitely Rated M for adult content, which starts right up again in this chapter. The OCs belong to me, the Tracys do not.**

_On with the show!_

####

Karen found herself unconsciously cocking her head like Virgil, listening for some kind of sound that would tell her that John was on his way home. At first she could hear nothing but the quiet rush of waves from the ocean below the cliff, but then, as that quiet rush began to get louder, she wondered if maybe it wasn't the sea she was listening to at all. As she concentrated, she also noticed a quick look that passed between Jeff Tracy and Tin-Tin.

"Come on, Karen, let's go and wait in my room," Tin-Tin smiled, putting her hand gently on Karen's upper arm.

"What? Why...oh, right. International Rescue's secrets." Karen was disappointed. She had wanted to see the way that John arrived. Surely an organization such as this would make a dramatic entrance. She couldn't imagine John just walking through the door, flopping into an armchair and saying _whew, what a day that was. _

Then again, nothing would surprise her anymore.

She followed Tin-Tin back to the young girl's quarters and settled herself nervously on the edge of the bed to wait.

####

Despite his restless anxiety and desperate need to see Karen, John had insisted on piloting Thunderbird 3 back to Base himself. _Anyone see any other astronauts in the room?_ He'd said loftily, putting his hand flat against Scott's chest when the older man attempted to sit in the command chair.

He was now on final approach to Tracy Island, having completed smooth re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere and finalising all systems checks. He leaned back and dragged his slender fingers through his hair, raking it back from his forehead.

"Nervous?" smiled Scott.

"No," John retorted, but he was.

"Karen's really looking forward to seeing you," his older brother went on. "Last I saw, Tin-Tin was dragging her down to The House Of Kyrano to find her something to wear."

"God help her," said John. "She'll end up looking like an overdecorated Christmas tree."

"In a shiny pink jumpsuit," Scott grinned.

"The ah, one that, ah, Lady Penelope wouldn't even wear," said Brains, shaking his head sadly.

"Well, whatever she ends up in, it's not going to stay on her very long anyway," smiled John, earning him a clap on the back and a hearty laugh from Scott, and an embarrassed lopsided grin from Brains.

Thunderbird 3 hovered like a big red bird of prey above the Round House, causing the nest of frigates and other sea birds across the island to take immediate flight out across the ocean. Small tropical parrots, doves, sharp-eyed grackles and common garden sparrows all scattered likewise, beating a retreat from this roaring, angry monster. With a scream of reverse thrusters, the massive rocket angled its stern towards the hollow centre of The Round House and began its majestic descent, burying itself in a cloud of steam and other chemical emissions until the very tip of its nose had disappeared from view, sinking into the top of the cliff, leaving not a trace of its existence behind, save for a rather powerful smell of burnt rocket fuel.

Once they had safely docked and landed, John cut the engines and sat for just a moment more at the command console. "Should I get changed?" he asked, looking up at Scott.

"If I were you?" said Scott, lightly tapping John's arm with the back of his hand, "I'd stay as I was. Women love a man in uniform. Trust me."

####

Frightened out of her wits by the thunderous roaring of some beast she couldn't even see, Karen stared at Tin-Tin with her hands still clamped over her ears. "Has it stopped?" she asked plaintively.

"Yes, silly!" laughed Tin-Tin. "That was just another one of our machines."

"I would have liked to have seen it," Karen said, her lips pursed. "I saw the other one, the silver rocket plane one, quite clearly. And the big green one, I saw mostly the underneath of it, but when they brought me out of it I had to promise I wouldn't look round."

"You're very lucky they didn't blindfold you," Tin-Tin said, still smiling.

"I think blindfolding me would have been the last straw," Karen mused.

Tin-Tin glanced at her watch. "I think they should be arriving just about now," she said. "I'll just contact Mr. Tracy."

####

John liked to call the moving sofa The Travelator. He thought it was funny to give the innocuous looking piece of lounge furniture a grand title. Everyone else called it the sofa train or the couch express. Whatever it was actually called, the moving sofa was a smooth and quick operation that brought people back and forth from Thunderbird 3's hangar without a fuss, and largely without anyone even having to move a single muscle. John clutched his travel bag tightly to his chest, still wondering whether he ought to have changed back into his civilian clothes or not. However Scott was still in his uniform, so at least he wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb when they arrived. Besides, he had to admit, he really did want Karen to see him all suited and booted. If Scott's theory was right- and about women, Scott's theories usually were- John would be in for a _guaranteed good time_ if he turned up looking like he meant business.

Virgil, Gordon and Jeff were the only ones waiting for them when the sofa finally reached the pinnacle of its ascent and clicked itself into place in its usual spot in the lounge. John blinked and looked around, wondering where the rest of the reception party was, feeling vaguely disappointed that people hadn't leapt out waving banners and balloons. However, he could detect the sweet smell of apple pies baking, and his mouth began watering at once.

"Welcome home, John," said Jeff.

"Thank you, dad," said John, a little formally.

It was then that he heard Tin-Tin's musical voice emanate from his father's wrist comm. "Mr. Tracy? May we have permission to come up to the lounge now?"

"Of course, Tin-Tin," said Jeff. "I'll get everyone else in here too. I think it's high time we all had something good to celebrate."

Karen followed Tin-Tin back to the lounge, her mouth dry with anticipation. She had redone her makeup, rebrushed her teeth, recombed her tangled curls. She had fiddled with the clothes she was wearing, wondering if perhaps she should have dressed a little sexier. She had sprayed on some of Tin-Tin's exotic perfume- not the one that reminded her of the Thai restaurant bathroom, but something just a little spicier. Now she wondered if maybe it smelled a little too heavy. She wondered even if John still felt the same way about her after all that had happened. What if all the trouble she'd caused had put him right off her? What if the stress had cooled his ardour? What if, what if, what if?

But the whole confusing rush of thoughts inside her head melted dead away when at last she entered the lounge behind Tin-Tin. For there he was, standing between Scott and Brains in the middle of the lounge, looking straight at her. Larger than life, twice as handsome with his blond hair shining, and wearing that gorgeous, lilac-trimmed uniform. _Lilac! And oh my God, how it suits him..._

"John!" she squeaked. She hadn't meant to squeak, but her throat had constricted so much she couldn't help it. She took a few tentative steps forward as the periphery of her vision melted away to make John the sole occupant of her immediate surroundings. And then he was moving too, his long legs bringing him across the lounge and straight towards her.

Within moments she was in his arms and he was in hers and his face was buried in her hair, his breathless murmurs of love and devotion muffled against her neck. She clung tightly to him like a shipwrecked sailor to the last vestiges of his boat. She kneaded his shoulders, caressed his back, stroked his hair. He ran his hands down to her waist, pulling her even closer, sending shivers and tingles and thrills all through her body, making her tremble and moisten and blush like a mad thing. Then, without warning he pulled away only slightly, lifted her face from his shoulder and kissed her deeply, his mouth crushed bruisingly against hers, holding her head steady while he slid his tongue all the way into her mouth and groaned his desperate need into her throat.

"Whoaaa!" cried Gordon. "Get a _room_!"

"Jeez! Maybe he _should_ have changed out of that uniform," said Scott.

"Well, I'm sure there's some apple pies in the kitchen that need checking up on!" declared Tin-Tin and made a swift exit, followed closely out of the room by Scott and Gordon while Virgil just sat at the piano with his eyes shielded and Jeff pretended to be busy at his desk.

When John at last broke the kiss, which was more of a full-frontal assault on her face than anything else, Karen saw that his eyes had gone deep and dark, as though he'd fallen into some kind of stupor. She felt a little giddy herself, when she realised that her man was wearing a uniform with a gun belt and there were two solid things pressing into her abdomen instead of just the one she was expecting.

"Let's go to my room," he breathed, huskily.

"But, John..." there was nothing Karen wanted more, but she didn't want to look like a loose woman. "You've only just arrived!"

"Come on," he pleaded softly, nuzzling her cheek, then gave her the old joke. "It'll only take a minute."

She laughed quietly, closing her eyes against the gentle brush of his lips all over her face and throat. "Oh, God...it's very tempting..."

"Well," he murmured, nibbling her earlobe and sending a shiver of delight right the way down to her groin, "we either go to my room or I take you right here on the floor of the lounge. What do you say about that?"

She squirmed in his arms, pressed herself against the solid bulge nestling beneath just his gun belt.

"I say we go to your room," she agreed.

####

John hadn't even noticed the clothes she was wearing. He'd started tearing them off her the moment they'd entered his quarters, his hands a frantic blur over her body. As he roughly pulled the garments off, he kissed her deeply, assaulting her mouth with his tongue, pushing her hard up against the inside of the door, grinding his uniform clad hips against her. _I know what you want me to do_, he'd growled in the dirtiest voice she'd ever heard. _You want me to do you with this on._

And now she was completely naked up against the door, her nipples taut as bullets, her skin goosepimpled all over.

John kissed her neck thoroughly, moved down to her breasts, rubbed them with his hands and licked, bit and sucked at each nipple in turn, moved further southwards, biting her ribcage, licking across her belly. But she didn't want any more foreplay. She pulled him by the hair to make him stand up. She just wanted him to take her, hard.

He hoisted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, depositing her in the middle like a sack of potatoes. He climbed on top of her and kissed her passionately, pushing his hand between her legs, mumbling his approval at the state of her arousal. Meanwhile, she rubbed her palm against the solid mass inside his trousers, then daringly, she slid her hand along his belt and started fondling his gun holster, moaning and squirming while he pleasured her.

"Mmm...no, you dirty girl," he murmured, "wait." He pulled the pistol out of the holster and left her momentarily to put it safely on the dresser along with the two accompanying cartridges. "There's only one thing I want to go off around here, and it's not _this,"_ he said, turning to her with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow.

Karen laughed delightedly as he rejoined her on the bed. "I never got laid by a man with a gun before," she whispered against his searching lips.

"Mm," he chuckled. "So, what's the scenario, baby? Do we pretend I just rescued you? Maybe I carried you out of the museum and all your clothes burned off? Hmm? And you were so damned _desirable_, all naked and helpless like that in my arms..."

"Oh, God..." she whimpered, rapidly losing all sense of reason.

John got up, pushed her legs apart and knelt between her widespread thighs, fumbling with his waistband. Karen ran her hands over his chest, slid them under his sash, felt the taut muscles of his abdomen.

"God, I missed you," she whispered.

Without another word, he lowered himself onto her and pushed himself inside.

Karen moaned loudly, muffling it with a pillow. She wrapped her legs tightly around him and dug her heels into his buttocks as he drove into her again and again and again, making up for all that lost time.

Her hands were getting caught up in his sash. His uniform was making then both sweat, but especially John. He hadn't even taken off his boots because they made her horny. She ran her foot along the length of his boot now, and the soft rubbery feel of it made her even more aroused, if that was even possible. She clutched at his sash, worked her other hand up and under his uniform top to caress his back. He thrust hard a few more times and then he shuddered as his climax gripped, which sent her over the edge too. She held the pillow firmly in her mouth as an animal groan tore out of her throat.

God, she didn't want his father or brothers hearing anything like _that! _Not from her, anyway.

After it was over John flopped into her arms, breathing hard and heavy. He was literally shaking from the effort. The back of his neck was damp and his hair sweaty. He twitched inside her, sapped of all strength.

"I love you, Karen," he murmured into her ear, his mouth full of her auburn curls.

"I love you too, John," Karen replied, her hands under his uniform, caressing his dampened back.

She looked curiously up at the ceiling while he came to his senses. He'd put a star map up there. 'Constellations of the Southern Hemisphere'. Like a grown up version of glow stars. She smiled, realising she hadn't had a good look at his room at all. They hadn't even really spoken two words to anyone else before immediately leaping into bed. She felt her cheeks suffuse with heat at the thought that any of his brothers might have inadvertently heard the noise she was making, even through pillows. She was already imagining the nudging of ribs between Virgil and Gordon, and the arch, knowing look from Scott.

At last John pushed himself off her, moved to the edge of the bed and set about removing his uniform. He unbuckled the sash and threw it carelessly to one side. Karen watched intently the smooth movement of his muscles as he hauled the top off over his head, messing up his blond hair even further. She scooted behind him the minute his torso was bare and started kissing him all over while he kicked off his boots, nibbling his neck and shoulders and running her hands firmly down his sides and around onto his flat stomach. His skin was hot, in fact it was burning. He smelled divinely sexy, just the way she remembered. She opened her mouth against his shoulderblade and licked him like an ice cream cone, purring and murmuring like a kitten.

"If you want to start me off again, that's the way to go about it," John chuckled, then he reached behind and grabbed her around the waist. She let out an accidental squeal as he twisted around and pinned her to the bed then moved atop her, gazing down into her eyes. "I still can't believe you're actually here," he admitted. "Even though other parts of me tell me it's true."

"I know," she said, guiltily. "Believe me, I realise it wasn't meant to happen this way."

He kissed her gently on the lips. "I didn't expect it, either. Not so quickly, anyhow."

Karen sighed as he moved his lips to her neck, nuzzling her under her left ear. "Would you have told me eventually?" she asked softly.

"Eventually...maybe..."

"What do you mean, 'maybe'?"

"Well, I would have had to have found the right time..."

"Like, when? When would have been the right time?"

John laughed against her neck. "Oh, maybe around the year 2078."

She poked him in the ribs. "That's not funny, John Tracy."

"Come on...you think I don't know how uptight dad gets about this organization? I would have done anything to have spared you the ordeal you just went through. I was standing right there when you made that distress call, do you realise that? _I'm _the one who answers our calls. _I'm _the first line of communication."

"You were? You are? Then, who?"

"Brains," said John. "Brains answered your call. But I was right there. It should have been me."

"Oh God," Karen said, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "And then I went and phoned you on my cell, thinking I had this great exciting piece of news to tell you..."

"And I already knew," John nodded. "Now do you understand why I was so anxious to get you off the scene?"

Karen stared at him wide eyed. "I thought it was because you cared about my well-being! Do you mean to say it was just so that I wouldn't catch sight of your brothers?" She pushed him off her and sat up. "John Tracy, you just _wanted me off the scene_! How could you?"

John rolled onto his back and started laughing. "Oh, the drama," he grinned. "Of course I wanted you to be safe, that's not the issue at all. But I also knew there'd be hell to pay if you found out who I really was. Of course, that's a total moot point now, seeing as I've actually just done you with the uniform on. Can't get any closer to who I am than that."

Karen punched him, then hit him with the pillow. "You pig! Why didn't you just tell me who you were?" She said indignantly. "That night we ate pizza at my place. Why didn't you just say, _Hi, I'm John Tracy,_ _I'm a member of International Rescue, but you have to keep it a secret._ I would've easily dealt with that."

"I couldn't!" John protested, warding off another pillow attack. "My ass would have gotten fried!"

"Your ass is getting fried now, mister!"

John laughed and rolled away as she hit him with the pillow again and again until he grabbed a pillow of his own and fought back, landing one right on her head. At that, she launched a full blown attack, and before long they were rolling about in a tangle of limbs, laughing and shouting and swinging pillows left, right and centre.

An hour later, they'd calmed down, showered, made love in the shower, showered again and put their clothes back on. Karen stared at him pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple dark blue turtleneck, marvelling at how he made even the most casual of clothes look elegant. Finally they were ready to venture back out into the lounge.

"I'm a bit embarrassed," Karen admitted, folding her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. "They're all going to know what we were doing. It's all right for you, they'll probably give you high-fives and everything. But they'll look at me like I'm a scarlet lady."

"No, they won't," John reassured her. "They all know how much I missed you. That's the only reason Brains was with me when you made that call. Because Scott thought I was on the verge of going insane."

"Oh, God, I know the feeling," Karen whispered. "Every minute of every day I spent in that library, I kept thinking of that day when I first saw you. I think Cathy thought I was developing an astronomy fetish, the way I kept sneaking off to that section. I just wanted to be around the place where we met. I even looked at all the books you might have looked at. I just wanted to feel close to you. And that shirt you left me, I never washed it. It still smells of you."

"Ugh," said John. "I'm sure it _doesn't _smell of me, it must smell like a dead cat by now. You really should have washed it. Think of all the germs, breeding and multiplying and God only knows what."

"Mmm," she giggled, pressing close and rubbing up against him. "Think of it."

John sighed despairingly. "I give up," he grinned. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and lifted her right off her feet, swinging her around and around until she squealed with laughter.

Eventually they made their way back to the lounge. Karen gripped John's hand tightly, nervous but happy. All her worries about whether John loved her or not had been sealed with the most loving kiss she'd ever known, and at the end of it he'd rubbed his nose against hers and reassured her that he would love her forever.

_Even when I'm so old I can't even remember who you are._

You okay?" John asked, as they hovered just the other side of the lounge doors. At her hesitant nod, he added, "they probably won't even be there. They'll be in the games room, or in the kitchen raiding Grandma's apple pies."

Karen smiled, clutched his hand and let him lead her through the doors.

"_SURPRISE!_"

It was the last thing either of them expected. A full-blown reception, with all the banners and balloons John had wondered about.

"What the heck?" he spluttered.

"Ha ha, I told you they'd be shocked!" Gordon roared, throwing a long paper streamer in John's direction. "Gave us plenty of time to get ready though, didn't ya, Johnny boy?"

Karen groaned inwardly. The nudging, winking and teasing had already gotten off to a spectacular start.

"Now, Gordon!" said the old lady who was Grandma. "Hush your mouth and leave those two poor children alone!"

"_Children_," John sighed, and plastered a grin to his face. "It's okay, Grandma, we know he's teasing."

"Well, John, it isn't as if we don't all know where you've been, but there's really no need to make such a public announcement about it!" Grandma went on, doing just that.

There was no mistaking the sound of Scott's loud laughter from across the room. "Grandma, come on over here and show me what cheesecakes you made," he called to the old woman, who was still scowling purposefully at Gordon. "They all look so delicious, I just can't make up my mind!"

"Big brother to the rescue once again," said John in a stage-whisper out of the side of his mouth as the old lady turned and went on her merry way back across the room.

"Well, Scott, there's your favourite, of course, strawberry. And there's raspberry and blueberry, and toffee caramel, and one with bacchanalia nuts on it..."

"Macadamia nuts, Grandma," they heard Scott explain patiently.

Gordon, meanwhile, was hunched over laughing. "Oh my gosh, she's priceless," he stammered.

"Really?" said John. "I'll give you fifty bucks if you take her away ."

"Uh-uh, that's a negative, Johnny. She makes the pies, remember? With bacchanalia nuts on 'em and everything."

Karen was trying hard not to giggle as John led her over to the food laden table. "I remember what you told me about your family traditions of welcoming people home," she said, leaning into John's side. "We should have anticipated it, really."

"Mmm, maybe." John turned and kissed the top of her head. "Too busy thinking about other things, I guess."

After a few more moments had passed, Jeff Tracy stood up and tapped the side of a wine glass with a spoon. "May I have everyone's attention, please," he said loudly. "Scott, this means you too. Put down the pie."

Scott rolled his eyes, his mouth full of strawberry cheesecake. He put down his plate, although he managed to carve himself another forkful while his father wasn't looking.

"I would like to make an announcement and raise a toast," Jeff went on as Virgil, Scott, Brains, Gordon and Tin-Tin crowded around. He cleared his throat, then went on. "First of all, I would like to formally welcome Miss Karen Meadows to Tracy Island and to our home. I would also like to formally apologise for the unfortunate way in which she arrived here, but hope she understands that it was a necessary evil we had to go through."

There were murmurs all around. Karen felt her face go bright red, and leaned further into John who tightened his protective hold around her shoulders.

"As well as welcoming Miss Meadows to our home, I would also like us to raise our glasses in a toast to her, for making my son John the happiest I've seen him in a long time, if today is anything to go by."

"Dad!" said John, mortified. "Now she's going to think I'm some kind of depressive!"

Karen laughed, squeezed him tightly. "No chance, lover boy," she giggled. "You've got _far _too much energy to be depressed!"

At that, everyone laughed and lifted their glasses and a ripple of applause and murmurs of "hear, hear" went around the room.

"Oh, Mr. Tracy, that was beautiful!" sobbed Tin-Tin, making sure she was near enough to Scott in case he felt like reassuring her with a hug instead of stuffing his face with cheesecake.

"Oh, Karen!" Gordon cried mock theatrically, laying an arm across his brow. "How could you leave me for _him? _He's not even one of us...he's...he's _blond_!"

"Come on, everyone," said Grandma, pulling on Virgil's sleeve and dragging him towards the table. "Come and have something to eat. There's ham sandwiches, and cheese sandwiches, and tuna sandwiches, and chicken sandwiches, and chocolate cake, and sherry trifle, and Mistipy Mud Pie.."

"Mississippi, Grandma," said Scott, digging into more cheesecake.

"...and lemon drizzle cake, and syrup sponge cake, and what are those horrible, dry things you like, Jefferson? Garybandy biscuits..."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know what she's talking about this time," he muttered, piling cheesecake into his mouth.

"...and mini egg-and-cheese tartlet things..."

"They're called quiches, Grandma."

"...and hostage rolls..."

"Now she's doing it on purpose," Scott said, looking around and giving the old lady the evil eye.

John hugged Karen tightly, closing his eyes and nestling his cheek against hers. He joined her in her muffled laughter at Scott's epic face pulling, rocking her gently in his arms while Grandma carried on reeling off strange food concoctions and pushing plates of sandwiches at a wildly protesting Virgil.

"Karen, Karen, Karen," he murmured, kissing her through her hair. "Welcome to the Tracy Island Lunatic Asylum."

####

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22

_Shock horror, my Internet's working!_

_Hello everyone, hope you are all well and dandy. _

_Without further ado, here is Chapter 22, and I make no apologies for the return of plot-what-plot and basically just writing about John and Karen gettin' it onnnnnnnnnn. (Cue Barry White.)_

**_Disclaimers: TV-Verse. Shore Leave is Rated M for adult themes. All Thunderbirds characters are Carlton's or whoevers. All OCs are mine_.**

####

There was no denying that the Tracys knew how to throw a party. After eating fit to burst- on Grandma's strict instructions- Karen was now sipping a fine cognac and giggling at Gordon's repertoire of magic tricks he'd learned years ago and told her he had largely forgotten how to do. This meant that instead of a coin from behind her ear he produced an egg, and instead of the ace of clubs he produced the three of diamonds, which happened to be the card that she had chosen from an earlier trick that he'd pretended to get wrong too. It was actually quite clever the way he did it, and Karen felt herself laughing out loud at his exaggerated expressions of confusion. Each time she laughed she noticed the tips of his ears went slightly pink, and she came to the touching conclusion that the fourth Tracy brother was developing a crush on her.

Virgil took his bottle of Belgian beer over to the piano, sat down with a theatrical flourish, and started playing some lively show tunes. The catchy melodies had Grandma suddenly up and dancing and clapping her hands in gay abandon.

"She's had two small sherries," said Scott, looming over Karen's right shoulder, "and she's already over the limit."

"She's certainly a character," Karen agreed, watching the old lady attempting what looked suspiciously like a bump-and-grind.

"She is that." Scott sipped from a glass of whiskey. "So. How are _you _doing, honey? Feeling a little better now?"

Karen lowered her eyes. "Yes, thank you, Scott. Much better."

He laughed quietly. "Dad was right about John looking happy. I've never seen him so carefree. He's always been the serious one."

Karen glanced over to where John and his father were engaged in deep conversation. Every time John nodded or shook his head, his blond curl flicked across his smooth forehead, making her insides turn to jelly.

"He has a wicked sense of humour, though," she smiled. "I don't think I've ever laughed so much as when I'm with him."

Scott went quiet. He swirled his drink, gazed into its golden depths. Karen turned to look at him. He was at least six or seven inches taller and seemed to tower over her, although she thought that could be largely due to his imposing personality as much as his physical height. He was wearing an open necked white shirt with a charcoal grey jacket over the top, and as much as she tried not to, she couldn't help looking at his neck, the contrasting whiteness of his shirt collar against his tanned skin. He also had the most divine pair of lips she thought she'd ever seen- besides John's, of course. And of course, there was _that _aftershave.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she ventured, wondering why he seemed to find that phrase amusing.

"Just thinking what a lucky guy he is," the older man said with a grin. "I always knew Johnny was a one-woman man, and that when he met the right girl he'd settle down. Call it Big Brother's Intuition. I like to think I know him better than I know myself."

"He certainly thinks highly of you," Karen replied, looking back at John and Jeff, wondering what was so fascinating that they were both so deep in conversation. "Of course, I didn't know it at the time, but you were the one he kept disappearing off to talk to on that wrist thing. Making me think he was secretly married and everything."

Scott chuckled. "Poor John. I can just imagine how bad he felt trying not to deceive you but also not being allowed to tell you anything. And I'm afraid I did kind of give him the third degree at one point. I just couldn't believe he'd met and fallen in love with someone in the space of only two days. My immediate thought was, someone's trying to get to us."

"Not 'someone might have actually fallen for John'?" said Karen, staring at him.

Scott shook his handsome head. "I'm too cynical for that, I'm afraid."

"Well, that's a crying shame, isn't it?"

Scott swallowed more whiskey. "Just how it is," he shrugged. "I may be in charge out in the field, but there's the real boss, over there." He lifted his glass and pointed it in Jeff's direction. "What he says, goes. The days of casually falling in love and bringing women home ended when we set up this place."

Karen saw the slightly wistful look that passed quickly through his cobalt eyes. "But look at what you've got now, though. I mean, _International Rescue!_"

He laughed. "You don't have to whisper it. And yeah, compared to what we do now, the rest of it seems almost self-indulgent. John actually called me on the third day of his vacation- before he met you, that is- and told me he was bored and couldn't wait to get back to work."

"Well, speaking selfishly, I'm very glad he didn't."

"You know what?" Scott smiled and clinked his glass against hers. "I'm very glad too."

John finished up his conversation with Jeff and came over to join them. The magnetic quality of the air that surrounded both Karen and John when they were within touching distance of each other came into play and soon she was glued to his side, her arm tightly around his waist and his arm tightly around her shoulders.

"Hope this Rat Packer isn't troubling you too much," John murmured into her hair. "I've seen his type before. They lull you into a false sense of security, and then bam! They pull your pigtails."

"Lucky I don't have pigtails then," Karen giggled, blushing madly.

"_All_ girls have pigtails," John asserted, pulling strands of her hair out of his mouth. "Whether they know it or not."

"There you go," Scott said. "An example of profundity from our very own Wise Owl."

"And an example of facetiousness from our resident Wise Guy," grinned John.

Karen was laughing now, snuggled up against John's side, heady from the warmth of his body through his sweater. "Look at your Grandma, John," she giggled.

Grandma was swaying her hips from side to side in a worryingly lascivious way while Virgil played a tune with a catchy calypso beat.

"'_Rum and coca-cola'_," the old lady was singing.

"Oh no, Virgil. Not the Andrews Sisters," Scott palmed his face in despair. "What have we _told_ you about playing The Andrews Sisters?"

"_'Both motha and daughta'_," Grandma carried on gyrating like a tone-deaf karaoke queen while Virgil caught Scott's eye and laughed, giving his brother the thumbs-up.

"_Workin' for the Yankee dollaaah_."

"Isn't that song about prostitutes?" said John.

####

Later on, John took Karen down to the beach. The moon looked like a squashed pie, although when Karen said it was almost full, John told her that it had already passed full and was now on the wane.

"Smarty pants," she giggled, tickling him in the ribs.

They walked along the shore where the small waves lapped quietly. When they were far enough away from the house, John pulled Karen into a long, passionate kiss, his mouth and tongue a hot contrast against the cool night breeze that caressed the rest of her face. Karen moaned, pressing up against him, slipping her hands under his sweater.

"Come on," he said, pushing away from her and beginning to strip off. "Let's go skinny dipping!"

Laughing, Karen whipped her own clothes off, and soon she was following the pale streak of his body as he launched himself down the beach and into the shallows, splashing and shouting.

The water was surprisingly warm, and Karen swam in John's wake as he breast-stroked out into the depths. When he stopped to let her catch up, she found her feet could no longer touch the bottom, but that his could. This meant she had to hold onto him, which she was more than happy to do.

They kissed slowly, the mild current swaying them backwards and forwards. John kneaded her buttocks, stroked his fingers around her thigh and touched her, almost, it seemed, by accident. She gasped and moaned, reached for his hand and put it back there. He stroked her lazily, and only with the very tip of his finger. This made her moan louder, her mouth pressed against his, her tongue wound hungrily around his tongue. She tasted whiskey, and a brief, unbidden thought of his brother Scott flashed in her mind serving only to arouse her even more. John was her man, but there was no harm in a fleeting thought if it helped to spice up the situation. Besides, it was only the taste of whiskey on his lips that had caused that.

John moved his mouth to her neck, battling against the impish current that kept trying to pull them apart. He managed to kiss her there before gaining a mouthful of salt water for his efforts.

"Ugh," he spat. "They make this look so easy in the movies."

They moved closer to the shore, where Karen could stand up. Then John pulled her close again, rubbing the head of his erection between her legs. They were both giggling at the sea's relentless efforts to separate them.

"Our entire species would be doomed if we had to procreate in tidal waters," John mused, lurching off balance again.

"I've seen people doing it in the sea, though!" laughed Karen. "Maybe I'm not holding on tight enough."

"Maybe I've had one too many Jameson's," muttered John.

Karen closed her hand gently around his straining erection. "So much for brewer's droop," she observed.

"Jameson _is _actually an aphrodisiac," John told her, bracing his feet against the sea bed. "It's just not very good for balance."

Finally Karen managed to get a firm grip around his waist with her legs and he slid into her, almost by pure chance than anything else.

"Bingo," he muttered, "although for how long, who knows."

"Well, at least with the current, we won't have to make too much effort," Karen grinned, letting the tide rock her gently against him.

John gripped her beneath the buttocks, moving from foot to foot as the water moved around them, laughing one minute, groaning with both desire and frustration the next. "Seriously, Hollywood," he said through gritted teeth. "Stop raising a man's expectations."

"Don't tell me you've never done it in the sea?" Karen smiled, her arms tightly around his neck. "You live on an island!"

"I've never done it in the sea," John admitted. "But..." he looked directly into her eyes, curled his lips knowingly. "I _have_ done it in zero gravity."

Karen stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds. Then her whole face transformed into a huge grin. "No _way_!"

"Mm-hmm." He raised his eyebrows naughtily. "_And_, it was with my NASA instructor." He bent his head and nuzzled her cheek. "But don't you dare tell dad."

Karen clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God!" she said in a muffled mumble. "I take it your NASA instructor was a woman?"

"Yes, she was _quite_ a woman," John smiled.

"So, um. What's it like?" Karen laughed, wondering what other surprises he was going to hit her with before the day was through.

"Well, it's a lot harder than this. I mean, _doing it_ is a lot harder. Oh, you know what I mean. Um...one of you has to be...um..._anchored _to something."

"All right, I get the picture," Karen giggled, hugging him tightly. "Although I have to say the thought of you banging your NASA instructor is horny enough alone, never mind zero gravity."

John pulled her closer, in order to keep himself from slipping out. "It wasn't like I set out to," he replied. "I didn't really notice her until she literally took hold of my hand and put it on her breast. I guess she knew I kind of had a thing for the all-in-ones the women wore."

"How old were you?" Karen whispered, closing her eyes as he rocked inside her.

"Twenty," he said. "Skinny as a beanpole and my hair shaved down to my scalp. I think she was trying to man me up."

Karen moaned as she felt an orgasm slowly building. "She should see you now," she breathed, clamping her legs hard around his waist.

"Mm. She emailed me after she read one of my books. She called me her star pupil."

"I'll _bet _she did." Karen was very near climax now. She braced herself for the wave of pleasure that she knew was coming. As if sensing it himself, John put his hand between her legs and helped her along. Soon she was writhing and moaning and clutching his shoulders, lost in ecstasy. He followed soon after, managing to complete his climax inside her before the current reached for his left leg and pulled it away from his right, causing them both to lose their grip on each other.

"Damn," John muttered. "Scrap what I said about Zero G being harder than this!"

####

Later, fully clothed but still damp, they returned to the house via the rear entrance, washing the sand off their feet by the back door. They went through the villa and ended up in the large kitchen, where Scott sat at the table with his mouth wide open while Tin-Tin threw multi-coloured mini marshmallows at him. She laughed musically as John and Karen stood there, wide eyed with amusement.

"You'd think it would be easy to hit a target that big," she said, taking aim with another tiny treat.

"She's not even trying," Scott protested. At least, that's what it sounded like.

"Here, let me," said John. He picked up a few small marshmallows. He closed one eye and took careful aim with a yellow one. After a few practise swings of his forearm, he let fly with the marshmallow and launched it at Scott. It hit Scott squarely in the left eye and bounced onto the floor.

"Man!" said Scott, "That's another one wasted."

"Wait. I can do it." John threw a pink one, and it sailed straight into his brother's open mouth.

"Hooray!" said Tin-Tin, clapping her dainty hands together.

John patted her shoulder as his brother chewed his prize. "Just throw the pink ones," he advised.

They left Tin-Tin and Scott to their games and went through to the lounge. "The decadence that goes on in this house." John declared. "It's positively shameful."

"No wonder your Grandma calls them bacchanalia nuts," Karen agreed.

"Ah! There you are, John," his father called as they appeared.

"What's up, dad? Word from Alan?"

"Just a small observation that he's made about a series of weather systems on the Asian Continent. It is monsoon season, after all."

"Any apparent danger?"

"Not right at the minute. But it's always worth keeping an eye on these things."

Karen was aware, as Jeff spoke, that he was monitoring her out of the corner of his eye. She fervently hoped that one day John's father would be able to fully relax around her and stop seeing her as a potential threat. The last thing she ever wanted to be was 'the woman who came between two Tracys', especially if one of them happened to be the boss.

She watched John as he spoke to his dad, marvelling at how quickly John assumed his position of authority. His eyebrows came down, his eyes grew dark. He looked thoughtful and serious- a man who meant business. Not for the first time, her stomach flipped over and she began throbbing between the legs.

"Thinking of putting us on standby?" he asked, moving closer to Jeff's desk.

"Well, not just yet, John," his father replied. "The boys are all aware of the situation though. All we can do is wait for Alan to update with the latest information."

"Uh-huh. Okay. Well, let's just hope we're not needed."

Karen looked at her man then. And only then did she realise the implications of what he was saying.

International Rescue could get called out at any time, day or night, and if John was here, he would get called out with them. John would be caught up in dangerous situations. John would be battling through fires and mudslides and collapsed stadiums where people lay broken and bloody all around. John would be cold, and tired and exhausted and battered and bruised. John would have to take orders from Scott, and John would be putting his life on the line for the sake of others who needed his help.

A lump of fear rose in the back of her throat and she moved into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist. He looked down at her, smiling.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," she whispered, battling against a sudden feeling of dread.

####

To be continued...


	23. Chapter 23

_Well, hello again everyone! We're up to chapter 23 of this epic already, and I'd just like to thank EVERYONE for sticking with me so far and of course, for giving me such wonderful- and in a lot of cases hilarious- reviews._

_Baby Sue, I'm just borrowing 'Tanning Obsessed Virgil' very briefly from 'Strawberries and Moonlight'. I hope you don't mind!_

_Louise- I'm getting into the habit of using Jeff's full Sunday name of 'Jefferson' too. it's so distinguished! And hands up who'd like to be locked in a small room and thoroughly interrogated by Jefferson. Uh-huh...thought so._

**_Disclaimers: TV-Verse, Thunderbirds characters aren't mine, OCs are mine. Rated M for adult content, and written for fun not profit._**

_Thank you._

####

It was dark, but the squashed pie moon cast a faint glow in the night sky outside the window of John's room. Karen lay awake, wrapped tightly in John's arms, while he snored lightly, fast asleep.

It was still difficult to get her head around the events of the last few days. From her simple life in the suburbs, where she worked three or four days a week then pottered around or just watched TV, to this. A paradise island out in the middle of nowhere, containing one of the richest families in the Western world and the headquarters of International Rescue.

She knew she didn't belong here. She knew she was only on this island because of an unfortunate series of events, and it was to Jefferson Tracy's credit that he hadn't immediately locked her in the brig- if they had a brig- and given her a thorough interrogation. He had been willing to listen to the words of his sons- John especially- and looked, for now, to be giving her the benefit of the doubt. However, it did not escape her attention that when he wanted to talk business, he was well aware of her unwanted presence in the room.

She liked John's father. He appeared to all intents and purposes to be a firm but fair man. John had told her how hard his father had worked all his life and had always wanted to give something back to others. She could hear the unmistakeable pride in John's voice when he spoke about Jeff, and see the light of admiration in the younger man's eyes. She knew that John's only ambition in life was to make his father proud of him. _I was always the oddball of the family,_ he had grinned ruefully._ I was always the square peg in the round hole. But I was determined to fit, even if it meant I had to shave off a couple of sharp edges here and there._

John shifted slightly, rolled closer. His hot breath burned into her neck. She shifted to accommodate his new position and kissed his hair. He murmured something unintelligible in his sleep and snuggled into her side.

_As long as I'm with you, I don't care where I am_, she thought, holding him close.

Her thoughts turned to International Rescue itself. She had long been an admirer, along with everyone else on the planet, she assumed. They performed miracles, and for a long time it was suspected that they didn't even really exist, or that if they did exist, they were mysterious entities- androids, or extra terrestrials- with strange advanced aircraft and wondrous, never-before-seen technology. Now she knew the truth, of course. They were mortal, flesh and blood men, with all the strengths and weaknesses of mortal man. They could bend and break, they could cut and bleed. They could tear and split and be destroyed, but they could also stand firm, united, linked together like a chain. They could lift and restore, they could fashion and forge, and they could give hope in the middle of a wilderness of despair.

Karen thought about the man lying fast asleep in her arms. He was holding tightly to her, and even though his bed was big they were both huddled together in the same small area on one side. His body felt slimmer than when she had first met him, the bones of his shoulder blades more sharp. His hipbones had literally given her bruises- _battle scars_, they called them. He was in no way a frail man, but he was slighter than his brothers and seemed more easily breakable. Then again, sometimes it was the wiry ones who had the natural advantages of agility and speed.

Karen knew she was beginning to worry too much already, much like the partners of firefighters or any other emergency service worker. It was one thing to lust like a harlot over his lilac-trimmed uniform. It was quite another to imagine that uniform torn and blood stained, and John in any sort of mortal danger.

She shivered then, quite involuntarily.

John seemed to sense it, and held her closer.

####

The morning dawned clear and bright and warm. Karen was awakened by some birds clattering and trilling on the roof and opened her sleepy eyes to find that John was already up and sitting naked on the edge of the bed.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he smiled, his blond fringe hanging down over his eye.

"Hey there, handsome," she responded, reaching over and tickling his leg.

"I feel like breakfast in bed," John stated. "How 'bout you?"

"Mmmm. Sounds divine. It'll be just like the Walburn."

"Hmm," he mused. "maybe not exactly like the Walburn. All the baths here are standard, I'm afraid."

"You've got such a one-track mind, John Tracy. I _meant, _the breakfast."

He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I make mean bacon and eggs," he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers. "Not to mention cinnamon toast. And Grandma does great pancakes with maple syrup."

"Oh my God, stop, you're making me hungry."

John kissed her again. This time his hand crept under the sheets and found her left breast. "I was going to surprise you," he whispered, "but now that you're awake, I'd like to fuck you first."

Karen pulled the sheet back and let him slide in next to her. "Be my guest," she grinned. "It'll work up an appetite."

####

Scott was already in the kitchen fully dressed when John arrived in his dressing gown, his blond hair dishevelled and sweaty.

"Think I can guess what _you've_ been up to," Scott said perfectly nonchalantly. He was leaning against the counter picking the raisins out of a fruit bun.

"Oh? I'm surprised you even remember what it is," John retorted, going to the fridge for orange juice. "Where is everybody, anyway? Where's Grandma?"

"Oh, she's around somewhere. You know what she's like. There's one extra mouth to feed so she has to order in a year's supply." Scott flicked a raisin out of the window where a small bird pounced on it.

"You know I hate it when you do that," John frowned. "Pick the raisins out of everything. Even Raisin Bran. You'd think the name would be a clue."

"Oh, I don't hate raisins," Scott smiled, digging out another one with his fingernail. "I just think they're a little too prolific. You know? Three or four raisins, fine. Three or four _hundred_ raisins, it's like a sub species."

"Just eat the damned things," John muttered. He started preparing a breakfast tray.

"Oh ho," said Scott. "B.I.B, huh."

"Yup," said John. "I can do the bacon and eggs, but I need Grandma for the pancakes and cinnamon toast."

As if on cue, the old lady appeared, her arms laden with ingredients from storage. "Did I hear my name being called?" she cried chirpily. "John, dear, how lovely to see you this bright and early. I was certain you and dear Karen wouldn't be up and about until at least noon. I said so to Scott. Didn't I, Scott?"

John turned and looked at Scott, one golden eyebrow raised right up to the roof.

"It's true," said Scott. "She did. With details."

"_Details_?"

"No, I'm just kidding."

"Well, don't. The poor girl's worried enough about what everyone thinks of her as it is." John started cracking eggs into a pan, gently nudging his grandmother aside when she tried to take over. "Pancakes, please, Grandma. That's your speciality."

"Here," said Scott. "I know how to make cinnamon toast." And he pushed himself away from his pile of raisins to help.

####

Karen got out of bed when she heard the light tapping on the door. When she opened the door, John stood there holding a huge tray piled high with food and a rose clamped between his teeth. She clapped delightedly, and her mouth immediately began watering at the delicious smells wafting from the tray.

He put the tray down on the bed and extracted the rose from his mouth. "For you," he said, chastely kissing her cheek. "A rose among thorns."

"What thorns?" she grinned delightedly, accepting the scarlet bloom. "if anything, _I'm_ the thorn here!"

"Piffle," said John.

"Piffle?" Karen laughed. "You sound so funny when you say that."

"Not as funny as dad does," John grinned back. "Anyway, check out this breakfast- it was a three way collaboration between me, Grandma and Scott- so it's surprising that there's anything left for us to eat, the way he had to sample everything first."

Karen dug into her plate of bacon and eggs, discovering just how hungry she was. She chewed fast, reached for cinnamon toast, swallowed orange juice. "Mmm," she mumbled. "S'_good_."

"I don't know about you," John mumbled back, his own mouth full of food, "but I've just been so hungry lately, I don't know what's wrong with me. Scott thought I had worms."

"Ugh, John, please. I'm squeamish."

"I think it's just because I missed you so much, I just felt empty all the time. Like, _real _empty. Bottomless pit empty."

"You were comfort eating?" Karen giggled, reaching for her glass of juice. "I thought only us women did that!"

"Well, I always was a little girly," John admitted, taking a bite out of his toast. "When I was thirteen my hair was really long. I wouldn't let anyone cut it. I think I had a morbid fear of scissors."

"Have you always had this obsession with hair?" Karen laughed.

"Mmm...now that you think about it, yes. I was always kind of glad I ended up with the blond and blue eyed combo. Is that vain?"

"No, I'd be happy with that combo. It works well."

John gazed at her then, smiling around his toast. "Auburn and grey is a pretty good combo too."

"Oh my God!" Karen burst out laughing. "You actually said 'auburn' and not 'red' like most guys would. The closest a guy normally gets is 'rusty', which was actually my nickname in junior school. You are such a girl!"

John snorted indignantly. "I never saw a girl with one of _these_," he said, pointing downwards to where his cock was thankfully concealed under the flap of his dressing gown. "Except maybe in a German porno."

Karen choked on her toast. She coughed and spluttered and gave him a full-on glare, but he looked so gorgeous perched on the edge of the bed in a dressing gown- in _lilac_- that it was all she could do not to throw herself across the remnants of their breakfast and ravage him right there on the spot.

####

Later that morning they went swimming in the huge pool on the terrace below the villa, and soon they were joined by Gordon and Tin-Tin. As the four of them splashed about, Karen turned to Tin-Tin with a happy grin. "I'm supposed to be at work, now," she said guiltily. "But Mr. Tracy phoned them and I think he pretended to be a doctor or something."

Tin-Tin laughed at that. "Mr. Tracy is very influential," she said, ducking a stray beach ball. "He's no doubt wangled you a whole week off work."

Karen reached for the ball, intending to throw it at John. "Tin-Tin, how long do you think I'm going to be here for?" she asked, biting her lip.

Tin-Tin's pretty brow furrowed. "I can't really say for sure. At least until Mr. Tracy knows it's safe to allow you to go back."

"Do you think he's still suspicious of me?"

Tin-Tin squealed as Gordon swam up under her and hoisted her out of the water like a Sea World dolphin. "Gordon, I'm in the middle of a conversation!" she chided, playfully. "No, he's not as suspicious of you as he was, but he's still understandably wary. Just in case."

"What would happen if you got called out while I was here?" Karen went on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Virgil approach the pool with shades on and a towel with a 'V' stitched on it around his neck.

"Here she is, Queen of the Sun Beds," shouted Gordon, earning him a middle finger straight up.

"Well, obviously _we _would carry on as normal, but you would have to go and wait in my room or somewhere until the boys had left the island."

Karen felt bitterly disappointed. "All I want to do is see a launch," she said sadly.

John swam up beside her. "Aw! Why the sad face, Blue?"

"Karen wants to watch a launch," explained Tin-Tin, "but I don't think Mr. Tracy would allow her to."

"Where _are_ all your big rocket ships and airplanes, anyway?" Karen asked, treading water.

John and Tin-Tin exchanged a smile. "Oh, not too far away," he grinned, pulling Karen towards him for a watery cuddle.

####

After lunch, John took Karen on a walking tour of the island accompanied by Virgil and Tin-Tin, while Scott and Gordon said they'd catch up with them at some point during their routine checks of the island's security systems. _You go thataway and we'll go thisaway,_ Scott had drawled like an old cowboy from a cheesy Western.

John explained about the inactive volcano. _Billions of years old, don't worry about it._ He pointed out the sea bird colonies and ducked as one of them dive bombed his head. They stood on a hill and looked far out to sea, to where the horizon joined with the sky in a hazy blur.

"It's beautiful here," Karen said, awestruck. "Is the weather always so perfect?"

"Oh, we get the occasional doozy of a cyclone blowing through," said Virgil, his chestnut hair ruffling attractively in the steady breeze, "but most of the year it's like this- no real changing seasons to speak of."

"Sometimes you do long for a really good thunderstorm," Tin-Tin admitted. "So that you can snuggle up under the blankets and feel all cosy and safe."

"Hey, don't _we_ make you feel all cosy and safe?" laughed Virgil, putting his arm around Tin-Tin's shoulders.

"About as safe as a little mouse in a den of lions," Tin-Tin replied warmly, snuggling into Virgil's side.

Karen smiled at the young woman's ability to move from one Tracy to another with such flirtatious ease. She hoped that Alan was a patient man, but from what she'd already seen of the youngest Tracy, she feared that he was not.

"We have an observatory out here too, at the top of the volcano," said John, lacing his fingers through Karen's as they walked along.

"That was one of Johnny's stipulations when we moved out here," said Virgil, "but when we realised how perfect the viewing conditions were, we decided we all wanted one."

"It's great to come out here and have star parties," said Tin-Tin, "and stay awake all night to watch the sun rise."

A short while later, at the north end of the island, they met up with Scott and Gordon on a pair of small ATVs. Gordon's white t-shirt was smeared with oil, and there was more oil across his right cheek. Meanwhile, Scott's faded Metallica t-shirt was stretched at the collar and had a small tear in the left shoulder. They were both shiny with sweat.

"Some kind of animal keeps digging under the fence," Scott said. "We don't have wild pigs here, do we?"

"Only when Alan sees Tin-Tin flirting with you," answered Virgil with a grin, earning him a whack on the shoulder from an embarrassed and indignant Tin-Tin.

"Childish, Virge, very childish," Scott said, wryly. "Anyway, we've angled the cctv camera towards that spot. If it's not a wild pig, or a turtle, because it's too far up, it must be a giant rat or something. What are those weird animals called? _Agoutis_?"

"As long as your father doesn't think it's me," said Karen. She thought she'd get a laugh out of it, but was dismayed when all the Tracys and Tin-Tin looked at each other, and then turned to stare at her all at the same time. John couldn't hold the stern demeanour for long though, and rushed forward to envelop her in a reassuring hug when he realised she was getting nervous.

"Honey, we don't think it's you!" he laughed, swinging her around.

"Well, actually, I did mean it as a _joke_!" Karen cried, trying to be cross with him, but she couldn't. He was just too irresistible.

They took the ATVs down onto the beach, where John borrowed Gordon's vehicle to take Karen roaring through the surf. She clung to him, screaming with delight as the small four-wheeled vehicle threw up sand and spray, covering them both from head to toe. She felt free and alive, her arms around John's waist as they sped along, the wind whipping through her hair. At the far end of the beach, John threw the ATV into a spin and roared back towards the others, hunched low over the handlebars like a motocross racer with Karen bent low over him, her chin resting firmly between his

shoulderblades.

They screeched to a sideways stop in a spray of wet sand, covering Scott and Virgil, but missing the others who had wisely got out of the way.

"Thanks, buddy!" said Scott gruffly, staring down at his sand splattered cargo pants.

"Hey, Scott," said Virgil, equally soiled. "Not only does he have the girl and the car, I believe he just kicked sand in our faces!"

"Heeey, yeah. You're right," Scott said, his blue eyes widening in mock-disgust. "Well, I don't think we ought to let him get away with that, do you, Virgil?"

John tried to escape but his brothers were too quick, hauling him off the ATV with Karen trying to hold on to him. He shouted and struggled, laughing as they carried him down to the water's edge. "No! Guys, stop! I mean it! Really!"

"You hear anything Virgil?" Scott said, holding a writhing John firmly under the arms.

"Just hot air," replied Virgil, holding onto John's kicking legs.

"You're going for a swim, little mermaid," said Scott, but as he and Virgil began the swing that would eventually launch John into the water, everyone's wrist comms started beeping at once.

"Oh, shit!" said Scott, and went immediately into command mode, herding his brothers back up the beach. "Everyone back to Base!"

####

Once they were all back at the villa, Karen tried to follow John into the lounge but was stopped by Tin-Tin's hand on her arm.

"I'm so sorry, but you can't," she said, looking genuinely regretful.

At the door, John paused briefly and looked back. "It'll be okay, baby," he said gently. "Don't worry."

"Come on, we'll go down to my room and watch some movies," said Tin-Tin. "How about a glass of wine, too?"

"Okay." Karen nodded a little numbly. "What do you think the trouble is? Can you find out?"

"Of course I can," said Tin-Tin. "Once the boys are in the air, I'll ask Mr. Tracy to brief us."

They went down to Tin-Tin's room with a bottle of wine and some pretzels and rice crackers.

"I'm so nervous," Karen admitted. "It could be anything. It could be something really dangerous, couldn't it?"

"They'll be all right, really they will," said Tin-Tin, as they reached her door. "Our equipment is ultra-protective in any environment, and the boys never take risks with their lives. Plus, they're in constant contact with us from beginning to end. So please, try not to drive yourself too mad with worry."

_I can't help it_, Karen thought desperately as she followed Tin-Tin inside._ I'd die if anything happened to John. I would quite literally die._

It wasn't long before the entire house began rumbling and shaking enough for the wine in Karen's glass to ripple noticeably.

"Oh my God, it feels like an earthquake," she whispered, wide-eyed. "Are we safe?"

"Of course," Tin-Tin laughed. "That's just Scott."

"Well, where_ is _he? It feels like he's right below us!"

Tin-Tin said nothing, just smiled over the rim of her wine glass.

The rumbling went on for ages, then began to fade. The building stopped shaking, and Karen started to relax. "Thank God that's..."

And then it started up again. And this time it got louder, and louder, and louder.

"Holy_ shit_! What the hell is _that_?" Karen cried, putting her hands over her ears.

"It's Scott!" Tin-Tin giggled. "Getting ready for take off!"

The roaring reached a crescendo and the house began trembling again. Karen sat with her hands over her ears and her face scrunched up. "It feels like he's about to come up through the floor!" she cried.

"We did have the villa soundproofed, but Scott is very noisy," Tin-Tin agreed. "It'll stop in a minute though. I should think he's in the air by now."

"Noisy and fast?" Karen said with a smile.

Tin-Tin giggled, flushing slightly. Then she changed the subject. "Virgil, Gordon and John don't launch quite so close to the house. You'll just feel a slight rumbling and a bit of a noise, as though you lived close to an airport. Nothing like the racket Scott makes."

"They'll be in the big green one, right?"

"Thunderbird 2. Scott's is Thunderbird 1. Noisy, fast, and first to arrive."

Karen put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Tin-Tin!"

"Oh, we tease him all the time," Tin-Tin laughed. "He loves it- in fact he encourages it! He loves being the centre of attention, and don't let him tell you otherwise."

"He didn't enjoy being the centre of attention yesterday," Karen said, ruefully.

"Oh, Karen, please stop beating yourself up about yesterday. So much has happened since then. It hasn't harmed our organization at all, and Mr. Tracy is happy for you to be here. I also think it's good for him to realise every now and again, that there are outsiders who _can _be trusted with knowledge of International Rescue. And besides, I know he's secretly thrilled that John's found someone. He thinks it's made him a bit more outgoing and less insular."

"But that's what attracted me to John in the first place," Karen smiled. "He seemed so self-contained in his own little world of astronomy." She sighed, once again picturing John the way he looked when they first met. "I really do love him, Tin-Tin. I think he's The One. I hope they'll all be okay."

####

Two hours later, Karen was sitting in the kitchen with Grandma while Tin-Tin and Brains conferred with Jeff in the lounge. She had been informed that the callout was for a collapsed mineshaft somewhere in Belgium that was being used by amateur potholers who had been warned of the dangers but had apparently taken no notice. From Tin-Tin's regular updates, Karen learned that they were using a piece of equipment called a Mole that tunnelled through all kinds of underground rock with no problem, and that Virgil and Gordon were driving this 'Mole' while Scott and John stayed above ground giving instructions and helping wherever else they were needed. _Virgil always comes home dirtier than Scott. You watch,_ Tin-Tin said.

Grandma was feeding Karen with a huge slice of chocolate cake accompanied by a scoop of real vanilla ice cream. Karen had to admit it was horribly self-indulgent to be sitting here eating chocolate cake while John was out on a rescue, but the old lady had insisted, and Karen saw what happened to people who resisted. They were practically tied into a chair and force-fed.

Tin-Tin returned to the kitchen. "There were seven potholers down there. The boys have had to shore up the walls but at least they're getting them out. Two of them will have to be stretchered out as Scott says their legs are broken. The ambulances are there as well as the police and fire authorities. I think the poor souls will all end up being arrested and cautioned."

"Well, that's a shame," said Grandma. "But they knew of the dangers! People think it's good to go off on all these so-called adventures but they don't realise the trouble they cause, haring up mountains or into deep caverns without basic survival equipment and wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of summer shorts. I ask you! It's ridiculous! Those are _my grandsons_ being called out to rescue those foolhardy idiots!"

Karen looked up from her forkful of cake. Two of the guys from work had been white water rafting recently and had thought it was hilarious because they'd had a few beers first and were legless on the raft. She decided it was probably unwise to mention it because of course Grandma was right, and now that Karen also had John's safety to worry about, she found herself firmly on Mrs. Tracy's side. When she eventually got back to work she was going to find Neil and Philip and chew them out for being so recklessly stupid.

"Well, Mrs. Tracy, it looks as though everything's going as smoothly as can be expected," Tin-Tin said, "so the boys should be home in a few hours, if not before." She turned to Karen, who was poised with the same piece of cake halfway between plate and mouth. "You see? Nothing to worry about. And look- you've already discovered Mrs. Tracy's diversionary tactics."

####

When the boys finally came home and Karen was allowed out of Tin-Tin's bedroom (where she'd been ensconced with yet another glass of wine '_to take the edge off her worry_',) she launched herself at John as soon as she was allowed into the lounge. The others watched with amusement as the two clung tightly to each other, John murmuring that he was fine, he'd been fine all along, and that she shouldn't have worried so much.

"I couldn't help it," Karen whispered. "I just kept imagining the worst."

John pulled back, looked her up and down. "Now look at you, you're all dirty."

"She's dirty?" said Virgil. "_Some of us_ still have sand in our underwear."

Karen smiled at Virgil's attempt to make her laugh. "How can you all be so relaxed?" she asked.

"Because we've been going out on rescues for some years now, and despite the way we behave here, out there we're a pretty good team," smiled John, stroking her tangled curls.

Karen moved closer again and laid her cheek against his collarbone. "I'm not doubting you, baby. I just don't want anything to happen to you. Not _ever_."

John caught Scott's eye. The older man looked a little embarrassed and turned away.

"Sweetheart, listen to me," John said quietly into her ear. "Please don't say things like that. I'm as much a member of the team as anyone, I have as much responsibility to do my bit as they do. We all follow Scott's instructions and we know that if anything ever happened, Scott would never forgive himself. Never. So it's imperative that you don't say things like that out loud, or Scott will start to feel responsible for your feelings as well as everybody else's. And it's unfair on him."

Karen squirmed. She understood exactly what he was trying to tell her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think."

"It's okay," John smiled into her hair. "You're learning. It's hard on all of us, but in danger situations, we all act as one. It's what helps us stay strong. No-one goes off on a panic- at least not without the others. We're there for each other, and that way we always know that someone is there for us. It's a good system, and it works, believe me."

"All for one, and one for all?" said Karen, tentatively.

John grinned, pulled her into a warm and loving bear hug. "Exactly."

####

Not long after, as the boys dispersed to clean up before debriefing, Karen excused herself from John for a moment and went in search of Scott, her cheeks burning with anxiety. She'd seen him going off towards their personal quarters and found him in the corridor just about to go into his room.

"Scott," she called, shyly.

Scott looked round, surprised to see her there. "Hi. Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. I just..." Karen swallowed nervously. "...wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" Scott asked, raking his hair back with one hand.

"For, you know. Bringing him home."

Scott looked away momentarily and then looked back, his head cocked to one side and a small smile playing at his lips. "Now what kind of a big brother would I be if I left any of them out there?" he said reproachfully.

Karen smiled back, deciding that his expression was friendly. "A lousy one?" she smiled back.

"Yes, a lousy one. And if there's one thing I'm not, it's a lousy big brother. So you can take it from me that if I bring one back, I'm bringing them all back. Understood?"

"Yes. Understood. But thank you all the same. You don't know how worried I was while he was gone."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Scott. "But for the record, you're welcome. Now beat it, because I have a _ton _of sand I need to get out of my pants before I die. And _then_ I'm coming to find John."

With that, Scott Tracy, Field Commander of International Rescue, disappeared into his living quarters, and Karen, laughing, ran back in search of John to tell him that his ass was toast.

####

_To be continued..._


	24. Chapter 24

_Hi everyone! Thanks again for another great crop of reviews, and I'm pleased to see Louise H. getting the recognition she deserves for her comedic skills which literally have me dying of laughter on a daily basis (on both the Thunderbirds and Dusty's Trail boards.)_

_Slightly shorter chapter this time, focusing mainly on John's angst over Karen's fears for his safety- and his angst in general over everything._

_ The course of true love never runs smooth...alas._

_**Disclaimers are as usual: TV-Verse, Thunderbirds characters are someone else's, OCs are mine, Rated M for adult content and written for fun, not profit.**_

####

John Tracy stood in the bathroom, his hands braced either side of the wash basin, peering intently at his own face in the mirror. He was still in uniform, still filthy from the danger zone, still running on the last residues of adrenalin. _Isn't this what you wanted? _he asked himself, his internal voice brittle and impatient. _Didn't you _want t_o be with her, and for her to be with_ _you? Isn't this what you were making yourself so sick about just a week ago when you couldn't bear to be away from her- _crying _over her, for God's sake, when you couldn't see an end to all the lonely days that stretched ahead?_

_Isn't this what you _wanted_?_

As if answering his own question, he sighed and turned away from the mirror._ Sure, it's what I wanted. You know it is._

_But did you see that look on her face when you came home? _His internal voice persisted. _Is _that_ also what you wanted? For her to be so afraid for you that every time you leave the house on an assignment she sits like a nervous wreck in the kitchen and gets herself drunk?_

_She wasn't drunk. She'd had two glasses of wine. She was worried._

_Worried? You call that worried? She was terrified. She thought you were going out there to get yourself killed._

_She's got to learn to deal with it. _

_And how are you helping her to deal with it? Huh, big man? By locking yourself in the bathroom?_

John hated his internal monologues. These constant inner arguments over what was right and what was wrong and how to keep the peace got too much for him sometimes and he couldn't even bear to look at himself.

_Do you love her_? The voice came back, almost taunting him now.

_Don't be stupid. Of course I do._

_Then tell her. Tell her before you go out, and tell her when you come back, and tell her in between, even if she can't hear you. She'll get the message. But tell her. Jesus, man, tell her now. Stop all this internalising and go and fucking _tell her_!_

But instead of obeying that increasingly angry, increasingly mocking voice, John stripped his uniform off in disgust, threw it in a crumpled heap in the corner and got into the shower where he turned the heat up until it almost stripped the skin from his shoulders.

####

Karen was perplexed by John's sudden absence. Gordon had invited her to play a game of Backgammon, hoping to distract her and make her feel less conspicuous when she found that she was suddenly standing in the middle of the lounge by herself.

_He's like that, _Gordon told her as he set up the Backgammon board._ Don't worry about it. At the end of an assignment he takes himself off and has a long think about the day's events. Me and Scott, we get it out of our system by shooting things up in the games room or hammering each other at pool. Virgil beats the crap out of the old joanna. Johnny? Johnny navel-gazes. It's how he deals with things._

_But why does he have to do it alone? _Karen had wondered aloud._ Surely he knows how much I care about him? I just don't like to think of him going off all by himself._

Gordon had looked at her sympathetically, brushing tousled hair out of his eyes._ He's always been that way. You can't change him. You'll just have to learn to deal with it._

Karen sighed. All these new thing she was suddenly having to deal with. Worry. Tension. Fear. Panic. Where was _love_ in all of this?

Gordon was on his fifth Backgammon move when John suddenly appeared out of the blue and threw himself heavily onto the couch beside Karen. She was so happy to see him that she wrapped her arms around his neck and made a muffled squeeing noise into his freshly washed hair. He smelled beautiful, soapy and clean and lightly fragranced. His shirt was soft and she rubbed her face against it, and John responded by nuzzling her auburn tendrils and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear.

"Ahem." Gordon cleared his throat. "Seriously, guys. No PDAs, please. Not least because it's making me unbelievably jealous."

Karen giggled, squirming in John's arms, but John appeared to take no notice of his brother's plea. He kissed the side of her neck and sent shivers down her spine. Her giggles turned to sighs and Gordon dropped the dice he was about to roll and got up.

"This is warped," he declared, throwing his hands up in despair. "You two are seriously screwing with my self-esteem!"

"John, not here..." Karen murmured, becoming more and more aroused by the minute.

"My room then," John whispered, his lips against her ear. "Please. Besides...I need to talk to you."

####

The minute they were through the door, John was all over her like a rash. His hands, his mouth, she couldn't tell one kiss or caress from another. He was everywhere. She was so dazed by desire that she didn't even realise he'd pushed her over to the bed until she felt it against the backs of her legs. Even then, as they both fell backwards onto the mattress, he didn't stop kissing her, his mouth scorching the delicate skin of her throat, his tongue licking hotly under her jaw then working its way round to her mouth and forcing its way past her lips. His grunts of passion were animalistic, the way he rolled on top of her and pinned her down and even started pulling her hair until she had to gently disengage his twisting fingers.

"John," she said softly, "John, baby, what's wrong? What is it, what's _wrong_?"

"I love you," he mumbled, his voice raspy against her neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

She arched, hit by the intensity of those three little words repeated over and over. Her eyes shut tight, she tugged at his shirt, her mouth found his for another bruising wet kiss. Then he pulled back and gazed down at her, his eyes dark and serious, his eyebrows drawn together studiously.

"Don't ever leave me," he whispered.

Karen's eyes widened. "Leave you? What on earth are you talking about?"

"I can't give you stability," he went on, "and I'll take away your freedom- and I know how much you need both."

Karen stared at him. "John, stop talking like that! What are you saying?"

"I'm saying don't leave me. Even though I'm about to fuck up your whole life. Don't leave me."

"Oh my God." Karen felt tears spring to her eyes. "Why would I ever leave you? I love you!"

She wrapped her arms around him so hard that he lost his balance and fell onto her. She held him tight, stroked his hair, rocked him like she would a child. "I loved you the minute I saw you," she murmured. "I knew my life was changing right then. I don't need stability or freedom as much as I need you. I'll never need _anything_ again as much as I need you."

"You looked so scared when I got home," he mumbled, his face buried in the bed cover. "I couldn't help thinking how you must have sat here worrying about me the whole time I was gone."

"But these are early days, John," Karen answered, stroking his back, her fingers tracing the bones of his spine. "I'm learning, you said so yourself. And I spoke to Scott, and he reassured me too. I trust you and I trust him, and I trust Gordon and Virgil and Alan and Tin-Tin and I trust your father to look out for _all_ of you. I'm learning, John, I'll get there. I _will_ get there, because I love you and I love what you do- in fact, I'm so fucking proud of you it hurts."

John laughed then, a small sound muffled in the blankets. "You always did have a way with words," he said.

"And you'll hear plenty more of them if you go around thinking I'm ever going to leave you," Karen chided him. "Because I won't. I'm yours now, John Tracy. Whether you like it or not!"

####

A few hours later, John and Karen were down in Tin-Tin's room, where the young Eurasian girl had invited them for a few glasses of wine and a 'Girl's Night In.'

_Her and her Girl's Nights In, _John smiled, having cheered up considerably._ I'm always the one that gets caught. Scott won't go near her Girl's Nights In. Virgil got roped in once, and came away with glittery barrettes in his hair that he didn't even know were there. So I know I'm going to get used as a guinea pig for something. Especially now that there's two of you and I'm outnumbered._

Sure enough, John had been made to sit on the bed where he perched tentatively and somewhat suspiciously as Tin-Tin went into her walk in closet and fetched out a huge box of make up and accessories.

"Look, Karen. We've got our very own International Rescue Barbie!" she laughed, grabbing John by the arm as he leapt up off the bed and attempted to make his escape. "Oh, no you don't! You're staying right here with us!"

After two glasses of wine, John had relaxed enough to let the girls paint his nails. Tin-Tin sat on the bed to his left and Karen to his right. They chose a lilac colour that was the closest to the trim on his uniform and were carefully stroking it over his nails, demanding that he keep still so that they didn't get it on his cuticles.

"He has such lovely nails," Tin-Tin murmured, concentrating hard on her task.

"Yes, he does," Karen nodded. "Very clean."

"You girls do this for fun?" John pondered, watching them both avidly. The varnish felt cold going on.

"Of course!" said Tin-Tin. "It _is_ fun!"

"This colour really suits you, John," Karen told him. "Your skin tone and everything. Don't you think so, Tin-Tin?"

"Oh my, yes," agreed Tin-Tin. "And it goes so well with his blond hair, too."

"Don't you put that stuff anywhere near my hair," John warned them, earning himself a couple of mocking feminine laughs.

"Silly," said Tin-Tin, swatting him on the leg.

"I noticed you have some nail adornments, too, Tin-Tin," Karen said, finishing off John's right pinky and blowing on it, holding firmly onto his hand in case he moved it and smudged her handiwork.

"Oh, yes! I forgot about those! I think there are even some little stars and planets in there somewhere."

"What are you talking about now? What are you _doing t_o me?" John protested.

"I think he needs more alcohol," said Tin-Tin.

Karen picked up John's wine glass from the bedside table and held it to his lips, tipping it up while he swallowed.

"I don't think I could ever be drunk enough for this sort of ritual humiliation," he uttered, grimacing because he didn't even like rose wine.

"Nonsense! You'll look lovely!" Karen opened the small vial of gold nail stickers and picked up a tiny star with a small cuticle stick, applying it gently onto John's freshly lilaced middle finger nail.

"There. Now when you give someone the finger, it'll look so pretty no one will get angry."

John leaned as close to Karen's ear as he could and breathed hotly into it. "What if I want to use my middle finger for something else?" he whispered naughtily, making her squirm and blush.

"There!" Tin-Tin announced. "My hand's finished." She held John's left hand up so that her efforts could be admired by all, clearing her throat loudly when she saw that John was kissing Karen with his tongue in her mouth.

"Ooh, lovely," Karen beamed, flushed from the kiss, admiring each one of John's fingernails in turn.

"Yours are lovely too," Tin-Tin said, looking over at John's other hand. "The star is a wonderful touch!"

John responded by extending his middle finger and smiling sweetly. "It's so I can do this. According to Karen."

####

At dinner that evening, John tried hard to conceal his varnished nails, holding his left hand under the table and curling his fingers in such a way around his fork that it immediately became obvious he was hiding something. Gordon was the first to notice.

"John?" he asked curiously, looking at John, then at Karen, and finally at Tin-Tin who was giggling behind her hand.

"What?" said John, pausing with his fork in the air.

"Uh...what's..." Gordon glanced at his father to make sure Jeff's attention was elsewhere, then nodded faintly at John's hand. This subtle gesture immediately caught Scott's attention, which in turn caught Virgil's attention, and then Jeff looked up to see why everything had gone quiet.

"What?" John repeated, eyebrows raised.

Gordon reached across the table with the handle of his knife and hooked John's little finger with it, prising it off the fork and lifting it up for all to see.

Scott's fork clattered onto his plate, followed by a muted guffaw from Virgil.

"Nail varnish?" Gordon grinned. "_Nail varnish?_"

"We think it's _lovely_!" Tin-Tin spoke up in defence of the blond Tracy who was sitting there looking as innocent as he possibly could under the circumstances.

"John?" said Jeff, staring incredulously at his third son as one by one John's lilac coated fingernails were exposed by Gordon and his probing knife handle.

"They got me drunk," John said, pointing at both Tin-Tin and Karen.

"Let me guess," snickered Virgil. "Girl's Night In?"

"Tin-Tin!" sighed Scott. "We really need to get you a _puppy _or something."

"Don't worry, dad, it comes off," said John, noticing Jeff's pained expression. "That is...I think it does."

Later on, John and Karen sat cuddling on the balcony, looking out over the ocean that sparkled in the moonlight. Karen sat on his lap playing with his fingertips, stroking the little gold star in the middle of his right middle finger nail. "This looks so perfect on you," she smiled, her head resting against his.

"Can you convince dad?" John chuckled. "He looked as if he was trying to pass a bowling ball at dinner."

"So did Scott," Karen giggled. "Although I think he'd look good with nail polish too. In fact, Tin-Tin and I thought you should all have your colours on your nails. Blue for Scott, yellow for Virgil and orange for Gordon."

"But then I wouldn't be exclusive," John said, mock-pouting.

"But you are exclusive, my love," smiled Karen, kissing his temple. "you're one in a million."

John kissed her back, placing his lips lightly on her cheek. "You are too," he murmured. "you're my little sunny summer's day."

####

Scott and Jeff were talking. Not just chit chatting,_ talking,_ with Jeff sitting behind his desk and Scott perched on the edge of it. They both knew that John and Karen were out on the balcony so they spoke in lowered tones, just in case their voices drifted out on a night breeze.

"Aren't you convinced yet, dad?" asked Scott, his keen blue eyes darting across his father's face for all minor nuances of expression.

"Of her innocence?" Jeff muttered, glancing towards the balcony where he could see his blond son and the young lady huddled together in the warm glow of night lights. "Scott, I'm very tempted to say yes. She certainly appears devoted to John. My paternal instincts are telling me there's nothing to worry about. However my professional instincts are telling me it's too soon to lower my guard completely."

"We-ell, I guess that's fair enough," Scott replied, following his father's gaze outside. "Of course, if it's just your professional instincts you need to assuage, there is _one_ thing you could do, and it _would_ clear things up once and for all."

Jeff looked up at his eldest son, saw the canny look in his eye, then understood exactly what his eldest boy was saying. "Scott, I'm with you, son," he sighed. "I guess there's only one thing for it. I think that in order to put an end to all this speculation, it would seem a quick phonecall to England is what's needed."

####

That night John and Karen made love. Physically it was just as intense. John was an incredibly skilful lover, and the lilac nail polish- not to mention the little gold star- turned Karen on much more than she wanted to admit. However, this time there was a subtle difference. There was a connection. One that either hadn't been there before, or simply hadn't been awakened yet. A connection that linked them through their eyes, one that said _we're beginning to understand each other. We know things won't always be easy. We know things won't always run smoothly. We know there will be times when we're so fraught with fear and anxiety that we may not want to make love at all, times that may even drive us to fight and argue. But we know of these possibilities now. We will recognise them when they arrive and we will face them down. Together._

When at last they collapsed exhausted into each others' arms, they clung tightly to each other and whispered words of love and reassurance and promises of lifelong devotion. And even though the declarations got a bit overblown and flowery and out of hand, and even though they both ended up giggling at each others' purple prosed proclamations, they both knew they'd made that connection at last.

Their bond, which had been stronger than most bonds to begin with, was becoming unbreakable.

####

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 25

_Hello again everyone! Well, we're nearing the end of this epic tale of love and adventure...just a couple more to go. I have enjoyed the journey immensely and I hope that you have too. Many, many thanks for all the wonderful reviews and comments and new friendships that have formed. It really really does mean the world to me!_

**_The usual disclaimers: Shore Leave is rated M for adult content. All Thunderbirds characters belong to someone else, Karen kind of belongs to me, although she belongs more to John these days, and I'm happy to let her go. God bless, babe, let him look after you! xx_**

####

Karen sat at the small dresser in John's room, peering at her face in the mirror and trying to comb the tangles out of her morning bed hair. It was an almost impossible task. Eventually she abandoned the comb and started picking up his bottles of aftershave, taking off the tops and inhaling all his various scents. They all smelled like John- light, but with deeper undertones of freshly cut wood and something indiscernible that made her think of stars. He always smelled so nice, especially in the crook of his neck and the small of his back. She shivered at the thought of his warm skin and how he always wrapped himself around her at night like a human straitjacket, and how he would sometimes mumble soft sounds into her dreams, not quite waking her up, but joining her in her slumbers.

# # # #

He was taking a long time with breakfast, though. Karen's stomach rumbled in anticipation of more delicious bacon and eggs, not to mention his grandmother's amazing pancakes with maple syrup, and even Scott's cinnamon toast, even though some of the edges had been slightly singed.

When John finally arrived and she let him in, he looked peeved and distracted. His brow was furrowed and there was a slight downturn to his lips. She soon brought him out of it with a kiss, and he set the breakfast tray down on the bed and took hold of her shoulders with his lilac-nailed hands.

"It seems we're getting a visitor today," he said resignedly.

They settled down to eat their breakfast. Karen shoved bacon into her mouth and closed her eyes in rapture. John was a top bacon fryer. The strips were crispy but not too burnt, and just enough oil to take away the salty dryness. She pictured him in a chef's hat, giving cooking lessons to Scott, who sorely needed them if today's toast was anything to go by. _He was understandably distracted,_ said John. _By the prospects of today's visitor._

"So who are you being visited by?" Karen asked, picking up her coffee cup.

"Oh- this socialite friend of Scott's," sighed John. He shook his head, making the little blond curl swing from side to side. "He met her in Oxford years ago. He was studying, she was meant to be studying but with her money she could afford to fool around with parties all the time. She kind of latched on to him. He likes her- God knows why. I think she's a fruitcake. Her name's Clarissa de Beaumont-Montgomery. Typical upper class nutjob. Never done a day's work in her life, just wings it from day to day on her father's inheritance. She calls Scott on a whim and he goes running. But you know, they're friends- at least that's what he's always told us. Anyway, he's going off to collect her now- she's at some obscure airport on some obscure island, she always turns up like that."

"She sounds, er...fascinating," said Karen, feeling immediately intimidated. Socialites from Oxford? There was just too much money being verbally bandied around, spoken of as though it were just an incidental detail to the enjoyment of life. Ditzy women who didn't have to work for their money had always bothered Karen. Not because she was envious- although her brief stay at The Walburn had opened her eyes to another, quite decadent way of living- but because she felt that these women had no conception of how hard others had to work just to get by from day to day.

She wouldn't say anything though, and she certainly wouldn't pass judgement on the woman until she'd arrived and Karen had had a chance to get to know her. This Clarissa was, after all, more entitled to be here than she was.

"Do you think I'll like her?" Karen asked, tentatively.

John spoke around a mouthful of singed toast. "Sure. She's likeable. She's just a fruitcake. And she, er..." he mimed tipping a bottle up to his lips, "...likes a drop. You know?"

Karen giggled. "She sounds like quite a character."

John smiled then, a sort of closed-mouthed twist to his lips that could have meant anything. "Oh, she is that, all right. She's a character."

# # # #

At around 1pm Jeff Tracy assembled everyone in the lounge and looked at each of them sternly. "Now, boys and girls, remember. Operation Cover Up is in place. Not a word or a sound. I know I don't need to remind you, but it always helps to reinforce the drill. Ms. Meadows," the Tracy patriarch turned his steely gaze onto Karen, making her tremble slightly, "this also means you. You must behave as though you're one of us, now. Is that understood?"

Karen swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir," she nodded, clutching tightly to John's hand.

Even Alan, on screen behind them, looked worried. "Dad?" the youngest Tracy ventured. "Does Karen _know _what Clarissa is like?"

"I briefed her, Alan," said John, squeezing Karen's hand for reassurance.

Alan shook his blond head mournfully. "Words don't do that woman justice," he sighed theatrically, making Tin-Tin giggle behind her hand.

Gordon edged closer to Karen and stage-whispered, "Clarissa de Beaumont-Montgomery is the kinda gal who turns men into mush, night into day and water into wine- and then drinks all the wine herself."

Karen's giggle burst out of her before she had time to clamp her hand over her mouth.

"For once I agree with Gordon," said Jefferson Tracy, and to Karen that somehow made it even funnier. She had to clutch onto John's arm and look away to stop herself from laughing in case they all thought she'd gone hysterical with nerves.

When Jeff dismissed them to go about their separate ways, Virgil came over with a big, gleaming grin. "Time to lollygag around the pool like a bunch of dumb rich kids," he said ironically.

John smiled back. "I was thinking, maybe a game of badminton on the lawn and a pitcher of Pimm's. Make her feel right at home."

"A pitcher of neat whisky would make her feel at home," said Virgil. "Karen, wait until you meet this gal. Are you in for a treat."

# # # #

In the cockpit of _Ladybird _on the way back to Tracy Island, Scott turned to Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward and grinned broadly, flashing his dimples the way he knew she liked. "So- ready for the grand performance?" he teased, eyeing her up and down. "The guys are all briefed. Everyone knows except Karen herself."

"Dear boy, this sort of thing comes naturally to one such as myself," Lady Penelope drawled. "I've seen enough of those bird-brained debutantes to last me a lifetime." She lifted a hand to her hair as if to pat away any stray strands, but of course, her hair was, as always, immaculate.

Scott shook his head and laughed. He loved the way Penelope always called him 'dear boy', even though he was three years older than she was. "And don't forget, you like the old...you know." He too, mimed lifting a bottle to his lips, then gave a short, two-note whistle.

"Yes, so I gather." Penelope looked at him mock-sternly. "And who's idea was that, may I ask?"

"Actually," Scott chuckled, "it was dad's. I guess the old devil thought it would be funny to watch you staggering around pretending to be under the influence."

"You wait until I see your father," Penelope said meaningfully, but as she turned to face forwards again, Scott could see that she was smiling.

# # # #

At 1.45pm, Clarissa de Beaumont-Montgomery made her grand entrance into Tracy Villa.

Karen was sitting on the balcony with John, Virgil and Gordon, with Mr. Tracy, Tin-Tin and Brains at Mr. Tracy's desk and Grandma and Kyrano busy preparing another welcome feast in the kitchen.

Virgil, in his cravat and shades, was recounting a story concerning a jazz musician friend of his who had once gone to sleep inside a grand piano with the lid down when they all heard an ear-splitting shriek from inside the house. They stared at each other then turned their heads at once, startled.

"JEFFERSON TRACY! HOW ABSOLUTELY _LOVELY_ TO SEE YOU!" the shrill voice continued, and almost as one, the balcony occupants sprang to their feet and rushed inside to see what the commotion was, with Gordon almost knocking Virgil over in his haste.

Karen held back, unsure of herself, when she spotted the tall, willowy, well-dressed blonde who had an embarrassed looking Jeff Tracy swept up in a bear hug after leaving two bright red lipstick marks on both of his craggy cheeks.

"And where are all your _darling_ boys, Jefferson?" the blonde woman cried, pushing herself away from Jeff and searching the lounge with dazzlingly big but slightly unfocused blue eyes. "Virgil! My _darling_, come here!" She rushed haphazardly towards Virgil, who immediately looked terrified, but subjected himself to a barrage of lipstick kisses and a hug that looked even fiercer than the one she'd just given Jeff.

"Gordon! Oh, my favourite little deep-sea diver," the woman cried, suddenly pushing Virgil away as though he were yesterday's news and pouncing on Gordon, who looked anything but terrified and hugged her right back, his arms fully wrapped around her.

"Clarissa, baby, great to see you again," he grinned, attempting to twirl Penelope around and nearly pulling her off-balance in the process. "Come give your favourite Tracy a big kiss!" With that, he grasped Penelope's face in both hands and planted a whopper of a smooch right on her lips, making loud "mmmmm" noises as he kissed her for as long as he could get away with before a surprised Penelope came to her senses and pushed him firmly away, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Ooh, you are awful," she scolded. "But I like you."

Karen watched the whole scenario, bewildered, then wary as Penelope turned and spied John.

"JOHN!" Penelope/Clarissa said fondly, her arms outstretched. "Come and give Clarissa-pooh a great big teddy bear huggy-wug!"

Reluctantly, Karen had to let go of John's arm and watch this blonde newcomer with the now-smudged lipstick embrace her man tightly as though he were the last heterosexual male on earth.

"John Tracy, I can't _wait _to get my hands on your telescope," the blonde woman murmured just inches away from his ear, making his hair flutter, so that Karen had to forcibly stop herself from going over and laying instant claim to her lover.

Then, just as suddenly as she'd abandoned the others, the woman abandoned John and advanced instead on Karen. "And you _must_ be Karen!" she cried with her arms outstretched again. "Oh, I've heard _everything_ about you from _darling_ Scott on the way over. He said such _lovely_ things about you- but then, he always was such a smooth-tongued devil."

Karen glanced over at Scott who shrugged apologetically before she was embraced tightly and subjected to a barrage of air-kisses either side of her face.

Penelope/Clarissa let go of Karen just as abruptly and turned back to Scott, who suddenly looked slightly wary but pulled himself up to his full impressive height as she approached and wrapped her arms around his waist in front of everybody. "And now, my _gorgeous_ lover...how about pouring _dear_ Clarissa a shot of that wonderful single malt whisky I _know_ you got for Christmas last year. Come along now, darling, don't be frugal!"

After Penelope had dragged Scott off to the kitchen, closely followed by Jeff and an eager looking Gordon, Karen turned to John. "When she said 'telescope', I hope she meant telescope," she said softly, pointedly.

"Who knows what she meant?" replied John, throwing his arms up in despair.

# # # #

Later, in the kitchen, Penelope/Clarissa was holding court in front of a rapidly diminishing bottle of

Macallan while Scott looked on, occasionally laughing at her jokes, occasionally rolling his eyes at Virgil or whoever caught his attention.

"So, anyway, I said to Charlotte, darling, you simply _cannot _go to Klosters any more, it's full of hoi-polloi and absolute riff-raff, Switzerland is _so_ uncouth. I simply insisted on a _darling_ little resort in Italy, and of course the locals there are _so_ friendly, if you get my meaning." She winked at Karen and sidled closer to Scott, brushing up against his shoulder. "Of course, they're not a patch on _this_ darling man, what say?"

While all this was going on, Karen looked up at John who was wearing a slight frown. "Can't we just sneak off?" she whispered, hoping no-one else would hear.

John slipped his arm around her, pulled her close. "It's very tempting," he admitted. "her voice is going straight through my head like an ice pick."

"What are you two whispering about?" Penelope/Clarissa cried loudly. "Oh, do tell! Is it gossip?" She left Scott's side and came over to John, gasping as she caught sight of his fingernails. "oh, darling John! How completely and utterly _fabulous_. You always were such a trendsetter!"

"Um. er...Clarissa, we were just..." John attempted to disengage himself, but Penelope/Clarissa's grip was strong. "Nonsense, dear boy. You're not going anywhere, that would be terribly rude of you when I've only just this minute arrived!"

She pulled him over to the table and poured both John and Karen a large measure of whisky.

"It's too early," Karen murmured in John's ear, watching as Penelope picked up her own glass and knocked the amber liquid back in one.

"Just sip it. You don't have to drink it." John demonstrated by barely touching the liquid to his lips. "See? There's no way I'm getting inebriated. She's Scott's friend and this is Scott's whisky, let _him_ deal with it."

The conversation began to get more raucous as Penelope/Clarissa appeared to get more drunk. She recounted a tale from her days at Oxford that involved Scott ending up in the river with no trousers on that had Scott spluttering in indignation and Gordon creased over and howling. She pushed Scott onto a stool at the kitchen counter and sat on his lap with her arms around his neck, proclaiming that she'd always loved him and he'd been a bounder to turn her down in favour of somebody called Annabel. When Jeff retorted, also somewhat indignantly, that his eldest son was no bounder, she replied by saying that Scott was a chip off the old block. This made Jeff splutter, and Gordon's eyes pop out on stalks.

"You've always been hiding something from me, Scott Tracy," she pouted, winding her arms further around his neck. "And one day I _will_ find out what it is!"

# # # #

About an hour later, Grandma and Kyrano presented the food, and the Tracys and their guests were faced with another mountainous eating task. This didn't seem to bother Scott, who was already helping himself to a heap of barbecued chicken wings and potato salad while Penelope/Clarissa draped herself over him like a fur stole, laughing into his ear and trying to tickle him in the ribs.

John and Karen sat together on the sofa, plates piled high. Every so often Karen noticed John looking mournfully at his father, who just shrugged back.

"Are you all right, John?" she asked, concerned.

"Sure, I'm all right," John replied. "I'm just kind of ticked off that she gets to come here when she wants and no-one says anything, and yet you get the third degree."

"Well," Karen picked at a bread roll, "that's because I'm not really supposed to be here, and she's been a friend of Scott's for years."

"I still don't like it."

Karen put a piece of bread in her mouth, chewing but not really tasting. "Does she know...? Um, I mean, about..." she stopped, scared to anything further in case Jeff Tracy was reading her lips from across the room.

"No, she doesn't. She has no idea." John stabbed his fork into a slice of tomato.

Karen stared at her food. This was yet another reminder of the fact that she'd only known John for just over two weeks and yet she was already privy to his secret life as a member of International Rescue.

"I wish I still didn't know, either," she admitted, putting down her plate and nestling firmly into his side.

# # # #

Jeff pulled Penelope aside in the kitchen. "First impressions, Penny?" he asked brusquely.

"First impressions, Jeff?" The cool blonde dropped her ditzy demeanour and focused her calm blue gaze on her friend and colleague. "The poor thing is a nervous wreck."

Jeff raised his eyebrows. "Come again?"

"Jeff, can't you see it, or is it really only women who pick up obvious signals like lip-chewing, nail biting and a look of complete and utter panic? The poor girl was terrified of me. I don't know what you told her to expect, but it looked as though she'd had the life frightened out of her!"

"She's been nervous ever since she got here," said Tin-Tin, who had already been in the kitchen and had now come over to join them. "But I like her very much and I don't think she's any threat to us at all."

Jeff sighed pointedly. "I hope you two females aren't attempting to guilt-trip me," he said gruffly.

Scott came into the kitchen with a stack of empty plates for the dishwasher. "How's it going, Clarissa," he said. "Thanks for telling everyone I lost my trousers and fell in the river. Remind me when that was, again?"

"I'm sure there must be a grain of truth in it somewhere," Penny smiled, watching him cross the room. "I have heard _some _tales of your Oxford days, you know."

"Scott, we were just discussing Ms. Meadows," said Jeff. "Penny's going to put Step 2 of our plan into operation just as soon as she can."

"Well," Penny mused, "just as soon as I can peel the dear girl away from John. They are positively glued together. I think it's absolutely adorable, myself."

# # # #

Penelope/Clarissa waylaid Karen the minute Karen left John to go to the bathroom. As she came back out into the corridor, the beautiful blonde socialite was there loitering against the wall, a full tumbler of whisky in each hand. "There you are, darling," she said breathily. "Come. Let's go for a walk. You and me, two girls together."

Karen followed her out into Kyrano's walled ornamental gardens where they joined the meandering path that wove through lush shrubberies, past tinkling fountains and around rockeries and delicately pruned rose bushes.

"You simply _must _tell me how you came to know John," Penelope/Clarissa smiled, taking a large swallow of her own drink. "He's the most _divine_ man, but not terribly social. I always thought he'd end up a lonely old bachelor- although if I weren't so taken with his gorgeous older brother, I think I possibly would have had designs on him myself." She laughed at Karen's sudden look of panic. "Don't worry, dear girl, I wouldn't dream of it. He looks very happy now, I must say. So, pray- do tell your friend Clarissa."

They perched on a low wall and Karen proceeded to tell Penelope/Clarissa all about that fateful day in the library when she'd first laid eyes on John.

"I thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen," she admitted. "I think I fell for him before I even realised what was happening."

"Oh! How _wonderful,_" the blonde said, wistfully. "What an absolute dream come true. I certainly wish Scott felt that way about me. But sadly, I'll always be silly, scatterbrained 'Clarissa B' to him." She sighed heavily and drank more scotch. "So, what did John tell you that he did for a living?"

Karen felt her blood tingle in her veins. She blinked, groped around in her brain for the right words. "He's an author," she ventured. "Em, and an astronomer. His books are all in the library. I've started reading them, they're good. He explains things easily."

"Yes, he does," Penelope/Clarissa agreed. "I did attempt to read one once, but admittedly I only got as far as page ten. I prefer the stars on the society pages, myself. What else did he tell you?"

"What do you mean, what else?" Karen said warily.

"Well, I've always got the impression that these boys do something else," the blonde murmured, lowering her voice. "Scott can get very cagey sometimes. I mean, I know he's a pilot, that's obvious. But I often get a sneaking suspicion there's more that he's not telling me. Don't you get that same feeling about John sometimes?"

Karen stared at her own whisky. "No," she said. "Why would I? He's honest. I trust him."

"Hmm. I do wish I could say the same thing about Scott." Penelope/Clarissa wobbled slightly on the wall, drank yet more scotch. "I do have designs on him, you know. But I can't bear the thought of him keeping secrets from me. I mean...well, one hears rumours."

"Rumours?" Karen asked, noting the way the woman's eyes rolled slightly. "About Scott, you mean?"

Penelope/Clarissa laughed, sloshing her drink. "Not personal rumours, darling. I believe he's _all man, _as they say. No, _other_ rumours. Rumours about this place. What they get up to here. I just wondered, seeing as you were also a guest of theirs, whether they'd told you anything they hadn't told me."

Karen shrugged. "No, I don't think so. You know them much better than I do."

"My _dear_ friend Tara Bingley had this absolutely _divine_ theory that they were actually running an exclusive Male Escort Business out here. Can you_ imagine _it?" She laughed out loud, pouring more whisky down her throat.

Karen stared, shocked, then laughed out loud herself. "Come to think of it," she grinned, "Scott did look a bit like a male escort yesterday, all polished up and groomed. He _is _handsome."

"Oh! Darling, you should have seen him when he was younger," Penelope/Clarissa cackled. "Goodness me, he was a liability!"

Karen smiled. "I'd still take John any day," she said, sipping at her own drink.

"A wise choice," the blonde smiled. "And a much safer bet."

"It's not that," Karen said. "John's..." she hesitated, looked around just in case someone was hiding in the bushes listening to them, "...well, John's...he's...um..."

"Good in bed?" the blonde cackled throatily.

Karen blushed wildly. "Well, yes, he is, he's actually _terrific_ in bed, but it's not just that."

"Oh, _my_," Penelope/Clarissa grinned. "the mind absolutely boggles. Woof woof, what?"

"I love him. I mean, I love him and I'm _in_ love with him. I love him in all the ways it must be possible to love someone. And here's me, someone who didn't even know what love _was _until I met John."

Penelope eyed the girl curiously. "I heard a rumour," she began cautiously, "that they were secret agents."

"Oh, Clarissa, that's ridiculous!" Karen blurted, then immediately regretted it. "I mean, I don't see it myself. They're just normal guys and they live out here because it's more financially viable to do so with the housing markets being so up and down these days."

"Is that what John said?" Penelope/Clarissa asked.

"Yes it is, and why would I disbelieve him?"

"Well, darling, because they've so much money they could afford a _million _houses _anywhere_ they wanted without all having to live one on_ top_ of another. Five healthy, red-blooded males- and don't think I haven't noticed _Alan's_ absence, although God _only knows _where he is and what he's up to, that young boy can't keep it in his trousers for one minute-," she paused, appearing to drift off, then blinked back into focus. "Where was I?"

"Secret agents," Karen sighed.

"Ah, yes. Secret agents for MFI, or CSI, or whatever that place is called. Oh, and then there was _another_ rumour that was even _more _bizarre, and that's that they were all members of...oh, what's that organization called. Inter..." the blonde blinked lazily, peering into what was left of her glass of scotch. "International...you know. Rescue. That's it."

"_International Rescue_?" Karen said, wide-eyed. "How ridiculous!" She thought fast- this was her chance to prove she could keep a secret, even if there wasn't anyone here to witness it. "International Rescue are androids!"

"Andywhats?" Penelope/Clarissa asked, her eyebrows lifting upwards.

"Androids! Man-made humanoids, you know, like robots but much more intelligent. They're programmed by this big institute out in the Nevada desert, like Area 51 in the twentieth century. It might even be the same place. Anyway, they'd never send real people out on those missions they go on. It would be way too dangerous." Karen started laughing then, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "That's a stupid rumour. _International Rescue_. There's not even an airport here, just a teeny weeny little landing strip for one plane."

"Well, I must admit it _did _seem pretty silly when I heard it, but you _never know._"

"They're androids, and these guys are real," Karen grinned. "Besides, even though I haven't known Virgil for very long, he doesn't strike me as the sort of guy who would want to damage those lovely piano playing hands of his. Imagine if he couldn't play his beloved jazz ever again!"

"That's true," Penelope/Clarissa admitted. "And how about John and his lovely lilac fingernails. Forgive me for saying it, darling, but that's not very _butch_."

"No, and he spent all evening making sure he didn't chip it, even when we were in bed," Karen added.

"Well. That settles it, they aren't engaged in any sort of _macho_ profession. But I still say Scott's hiding something, and I aim to find out what it is!" With that, Penelope/Clarissa threw back her head and tipped the remainder of her whisky down her neck.

"How about if you don't, Clarissa?" said Karen, watching the woman nervously for any signs of a sudden mood switch. "Don't pressure him. If he's got anything to tell you, he'll do it when he's ready. I mean, he doesn't strike me as someone who would do anything to hurt anyone."

Penelope/Clarissa swayed slightly on the wall. "But I _adore_ him, darling! I just need to know what it is that he's _not telling me_!" She fixed a pout to her berry-red lips.

"I don't know if he is hiding anything from you, but my advice would most _definitely_ be to not push it," Karen said, thinking back to what had happened when she had tried to get to the bottom of John's apparent secretiveness. The mess she'd landed herself in!

"Oh, darling, perhaps I should just _tell him_ how I feel!" Penelope/Clarissa cried dramatically, making Karen look around again in case anyone had heard the woman's desperate lament. "In fact, perhaps I should just tell him _right now_!" With that, Penelope/Clarissa launched herself off the wall and began running precariously towards the villa on her high heels with Karen in hot pursuit calling for her to stop and think about what she was doing.

"Oh, but darling, he _needs to know,_" Penelope/Clarissa persisted, reaching the house and stumbling up the step, losing a shoe in the process.

Karen picked up the shoe and followed the hysterical blonde through the house, desperately trying to think of something to say to stop her in her pursuit of Scott.

Too late, she realised that they were already at the lounge, and, spotting Scott standing over by his father's desk, with all the others scattered round about, Penelope/Clarissa dashed in a sort of drunken shoeless zig zag across the room and threw her arms around Scott's neck, almost pushing him backwards over the desk.

"Scott, _my darling_, I love you _madly_!" she declared, and fixed her lips to his in a kiss of such passion that for a moment the whole room fell deathly silent, before a gasp rose from Tin-Tin and a muffled yelp came from Gordon, who nudged Virgil, who just stood there staring open-mouthed at the passionate clinch going on before his very eyes.

"I tried to stop her," Karen pleaded to John, clutching his shirt sleeve. "I honestly tried to stop her, but she was determined!"

John smiled, pulled her close. "It's okay, honey," he grinned, kissing the top of her head. "In fact, I'd say it's more okay than you think."

Karen pulled back and looked up at him suspiciously. "What do you mean, it's more okay than I think?"

# # # #

Jeff Tracy summoned John and Karen to the conference room. When they got there, Karen was surprised to see 'Clarissa' sitting demurely at the table, her hair neatly in place, makeup immaculate, not a trace of drunkenness or uncontrolled lust in sight. Scott was sitting on her left, although he was looking kind of pleased with himself, his blue eyes still somewhat heavy from the passionate kiss the blonde had engaged him in.

"John, you already know our visitor," Jeff began. "Ms. Meadows, may I introduce our friend and colleague, International Rescue's London agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward."

Lady Penelope stood up and extended her hand. "We meet again," she said, charmingly. "Although you must call me by my real name now."

Dazed, Karen shook the cool blonde's hand, looking at all the room's occupants in turn. Jefferson Tracy, who stood with a stern look on his face, the cool blonde, Scott- who was making an effort to look serious, and lastly John.

"What's going on?" she asked, plainly confused, and a little perturbed.

John sighed. "It was their idea," he said. "They wanted to make sure once and for all that you weren't a threat. Lady Penelope was here to question you."

"Question me? About what? About you guys?"

"To see if you would..." John looked down, picking at the star on his middle right finger.

"What?" said Karen. "_Snitch_?"

"No, Ms. Meadows, not 'snitch'," said Jeff Tracy kindly. "Lady Penelope is a trusted friend. She would not have unfairly trapped you into saying anything. Her aim was just to bring a different perspective to the matter. She had never met you before, but she is convinced..." he looked at Penelope, who continued in a warm, friendly manner.

"I am convinced that you're one of us, as it were," she smiled beautifully. "And that kiss I planted on poor Scott was my signal to say that everything was all right."

"I hasten to add that the kiss wasn't my idea," Scott interrupted, although he looked perfectly happy about it.

"So you mean to say you still didn't believe I wasn't a threat?" Karen said, staring at Scott, then at the newcomer, then back at Scott, because there was no way she could bring herself to stare at Jeff.

"Not entirely," Jeff admitted. "But Penny here is a woman of her word and if she says there's nothing to worry about, then I believe her. And now that she's given you the all-clear, I suggest we bring the whole matter to a complete close, once and for all. Ms. Meadows, Karen, if I may call you by your name, it is my absolute and honest pleasure to say, welcome to International Rescue."

# # # #

Karen was still in a daze an hour later as she lay in bed with John, relaxing under his warm caresses, her anger and indignation slowly melting away with each soft kiss he dropped onto her skin- her face, her throat, her collarbone, her sternum and then each breast in turn, savouring the taste of her nipples on the tip of his tongue.

"They still didn't believe me," she whispered. "Do I look like a double agent spy or something? Have I got 'bad guy' written across my head in big red letters?"

"Mmm," John murmured, licking the soft rounded globe of her left breast, his blond curl tickling her throat, his hands roving all over her.

"John, answer me, do I have 'bad guy' written across my head in..."

"I heard you," he responded. "Do I have 'deaf guy' written across my head in big red letters?"

She slapped his shoulderblade with the flat of her palm so that it made a nice, satisfactory _smack. _"Don't take the piss," she said, crossly.

John laughed. "God, settle down, woman. It's all over now. They one hundred percent believe you. End of story. Now shut up and let me make love to you."

"Hmm. I'm still not happy," Karen muttered, closing her eyes as his mouth returned to her body and began travelling downwards.

"I can make you happy," John murmured, his lips reaching the little dip of her belly button.

Karen sighed, leaning her head into the pillow. Her skin tingled under the caress of his hands and mouth as he worked expertly to arouse her, stroking, kissing, licking with the very tip of his tongue, making small wet circles everywhere he went.

"What's that?" John smiled. "I can't hear you."

"Just get on with it," Karen ordered him sternly.

He laughed. It vibrated against her belly, and then she was laughing too.

"Your poor father," she giggled. "I'll bet he was sleeping with a shotgun by the bed in case I sneaked into his room during the night and stole all his secrets."

"I'd have something to say if I found you in my father's room in the middle of the night," John grinned.

Karen sighed, stroking her lover's blond curl, gazing at him fondly. "You know you're the only man for me, John Tracy. There will never be another quite like you."

"Oh, you never know," John said mysteriously.

She met his eyes, read their dark blue depths, smiled when she realised what he was talking about. "Don't even think about it," she warned him with an arched eyebrow that looked just like the way he arched his eyebrow. "At least, not for a good while yet."

John crawled back up her body, rubbed his nose against hers, tickled her gently until she giggled and squirmed. "Don't you women have a body clock?" he said, kissing her face.

"Cheeky!" she protested, "I'm only twenty four!"

His lips found hers then, and he kissed her passionately, his tongue weaving its way into her mouth, his soft groans and steady breathing lulling her and exciting her all at once until eventually all coherent thought vanished, taken over by pure physical sensations as her body began priming itself to receive her lover's intimate affections.

"I love you, Karen," he whispered, preparing to enter her. "I always have loved you, I always will love you. I will never, ever stop loving you, not in this life, or the next, or even the one after that. I love you."

As she pulled him close and let him inside, Karen felt her heart swell inside her chest, a tiny burst of stars like a small galaxy forming somewhere deep inside her, sending pulsars and quasars and all kinds of other brand new electrical impulses to every last cell of her body, transforming her from who she had been into who she was now- a woman loved, a woman needed, a woman who belonged.

She held him close, joined him in the storm, clung to him for dear life.

"I love you too," she said. And wondered if it would ever be enough.

# # # #

_Next- the finale_


	26. Chapter 26

_Well, here it is. Chapter 26. The last one. And what a journey! It feels so strange to end the story that's been such a part of my life for so many weeks, but it seemed like the right time to do it. I hope that everyone's enjoyed reading, and I have certainly enjoyed reading your marvellous and entertaining reviews with all the discussions about Scott's aftershave, John's nail polish and Virgil's sarong (which indeed makes an appearance in this chapter). _

_Thank you all for sharing this with me. I have truly enjoyed the experience and I hope you have too._

_**Disclaimers: Shore Leave is based on TV-Verse. Rated M for adult themes. All Thunderbirds characters belong to someone else. Karen belongs to me...and now to John. **_

_# # # # _

"Okay," said Scott. "Close your eyes."

"What?" Karen was puzzled and immediately suspicious. She was standing in the lounge with John and his brothers. Lady Penelope and Tin-Tin were off to one side, smiling at her, nodding their assent.

"Don't argue with him, darling, or you'll be here all day," said Lady Penelope.

"Go on, close 'em," said Scott again, "or it'll have to be the blindfold." He had a strip of fabric in his hand that he held up and waved in front of Karen.

Karen looked at John, who just shrugged. "He'll do it, believe me."

"Okay, I'll close my eyes," she muttered, and closed them. "But I don't like this one little bit."

She felt John's hand clasp hers. He led her across the room with Scott accompanying them- she knew he was there because she could smell his aftershave. She doubted he'd ever be able to sneak up on anybody smelling as attractive as that.

"Okay," said Scott. "You two want to go through first?"

John pulled Karen close, made sure her eyes were still shut. She kept protesting, but he put his fingers on her lips. "It's okay, baby," he said, but she knew he was laughing inwardly.

"Yeah, we're not trying to bump you off or anything," said Scott, who was immediately rebuked by both Lady Penelope and Tin-Tin.

Karen didn't know what was going on, except that John had a firm hold of her and she had to keep her eyes closed. The next thing she knew, she was moving. Not just her, but John and even the floor were moving- swivelling around in a circle. She staggered against John and he pulled her close.

"Eyes still shut?" he asked.

"Damnit, John, what's going _on_?"

"All will be revealed," he said as they stopped moving. His voice now sounded like they were in an echo chamber. A cool breeze wafted across her face and the pungent scent of oil and fuel assailed her nostrils. She immediately thought of aircraft hangars. It felt like they were somewhere big.

A moment later she heard a noise behind them and Scott and his aftershave appeared at their side. "Hope you haven't been peeking."

Karen was led over to some railings which she clamped her hands around for dear life, guessing that there might be a steep drop on the other side.

"Okay. Ready?" said John. "Now you can open your eyes."

Karen opened her eyes slowly, with no idea of what to expect. It took a moment for her brain to compute the vast space of her immediate surroundings, but when the sight in front of her registered at last she nearly collapsed with the shock. There it was, Thunderbird 1 standing proudly before them in all its blue and silver glory. The same rocket plane Karen had crept so close to outside the museum, the same rocket plane that hovered majestically in the flame filled sky like some exotic bird of prey, its silver body buzzing with reflected lights and colours. The same roaring machine now standing silently, perched upright on its tailfins, subdued in slumber but ready to spring into action the moment International Rescue received an emergency call.

"Well?" said Scott expectantly. "What do you think?"

"Be kind," John whispered with a grin. "Scott's a little insecure about its size."

Karen was awestruck. "It's incredible," she breathed. "And it's _much_ bigger close up."

"No jokes please," said Scott. "But you're right, she is a pretty impressive machine. Top speed of fifteen thousand miles per hour. And I don't even have to gun her."

Karen's gaze swept all the way down the gleaming hull of the 'bird. "Fantastic. It's like something right out of the future," she breathed. "No wonder people think you guys don't really exist."

"We like to keep it that way," Scott replied. "Unfortunately, we don't always succeed."

"Thanks for reminding me," Karen muttered, although Scott's playful nudge reassured her that he was joking. "So...where do you launch from? I mean, we're pretty close to the house and I don't see an opening up there." she swept her gaze up and up, past Thunderbird 1's gleaming nose cone to the roof of the hangar.

"All in due course," said Scott mysteriously.

"I hate all this secrecy," Karen sighed.

"Come on," said John, ushering her away from the railings. "I know Virgil will be dying to show you his equipment, if only to prove that it's bigger than Scott's."

# # # #

At the railings in Thunderbird 2's hangar, now accompanied by John and Virgil, Karen was again instructed to open her eyes. This time she was greeted by the sight of the enormous green utility vehicle that had brought her all the way out here to Tracy Island. She gasped in amazement.

"It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. "But...it looks different."

Virgil smiled. "She's podless at the moment. See the pods, lined up below her?"

"They carry all the rescue equipment," John explained. "Without Thunderbird 2, we'd be up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Plus she has an on-board laboratory, engineering facilities and a sick-bay. Which I believe you are pretty well acquainted with."

"Yes," Karen said, unable to take her eyes off the big green 'bird. "That was quite a ride."

"Sorry about the bumps," Virgil apologised. "We don't notice them ourselves. With her pod in place she's built kind of chunky but she's as aerodynamic as she can be. She may rock a little but she holds steady when she needs to."

Karen could hear the pride in Virgil's voice. Scott's pride in Thunderbird 1 had been about its speed, efficiency and versatility, but Virgil spoke of Thunderbird 2 almost as if it were alive. "She's beautiful, Virgil," she told him, knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

# # # #

The next trip involved a monorail.

"I can't believe all this stuff is underneath your house!" Karen exclaimed as John helped her into the car.

"It's the whole surrounding area, really," John said, getting in and sliding the door shut. "The cliffs, the extinct volcano- it took some setting up, mind you. But it was worth it for the end results."

He set the monorail car in motion and off they went.

"It's like a ride at Disney," Karen murmured, gazing out of the window as the car hummed into a tunnel.

"It's way better than Disney," John grinned. "This is _real._"

"Where are we going?" She asked, turning her widened grey eyes onto him, noticing his slightly teasing expression.

"You'll see," he smiled. "Think Virgil's is big? Wait until you see mine."

Karen smiled back, put her arms around his waist. "I've already seen yours," she purred. "And I must say, I'm impressed."

"Wait until you see _this_ one," he replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

The monorail exited the tunnel and Karen nearly reeled over in shock. She had to cling tightly to John or she would have literally staggered sideways. They were in the most cavernous aircraft hangar she'd ever witnessed. She couldn't even see the far wall. It was bigger than Thunderbird 1 and 2's hangars put together, and right in the middle stood the most enormous rocket she had ever seen. And it was bright red.

John reduced the monorail's speed so that they could do a slow circuit of the monstrous hangar.

"Oh my God!" she whispered. "What the hell is _that_ thing?"

"That, my sweet, is Thunderbird 3. That's what gets me to work in the mornings."

"Surely you jest?" Karen said. "You don't go to work every day- wherever work is- in that thing?"

"Not every day. It takes me up to the satellite every four weeks then brings me back when it's Alan's turn. Alan will tell you that this is his baby, but I claim equal ownership seeing as I trained well before him and I use it just as much."

"You said 'the satellite'?" Karen asked, wide-eyed.

"Sure. Thunderbird 5, to give it its proper name. That's where we take all our calls and monitor weather systems and danger zones all over the planet. That's where I've been these last couple of weeks. That's why there was no way I could have absconded and run away with you. I hold too much responsibility here."

"Gosh," was all Karen could manage. "So as soon as someone needs International Rescue's help, they contact you."

"They do. I'm Space Monitor. I'm the one who doesn't mind being up in space for weeks at a time. At least, I didn't- until I fell in love."

Karen blushed. She was getting good at blushing, it seemed. "All those times we...you know...you were up in space?"

"Yep. I should have told you to look up," John grinned.

She whacked him playfully. "You were doing it right above my head the whole time," she grinned back.

"Well, depending on our corresponding orbits," John replied, straight-faced.

They stood with their arms around each other as the monorail circled the great beast that was Thunderbird 3. "That is awesome," Karen murmured. "I've never seen anything like it. And it's absolutely safe?"

"Absolutely. It literally just goes straight up. We don't get too many space rescues either. Once in a blue moon...bada bing."

Karen laughed, pulled him closer. "Sounds like you've got the best gig to me," she chuckled.

"I think I do," John agreed. "The best gig, the best 'bird, and the best girl. I must be doing something right."

"Oh, you are, John Tracy," Karen said, turning to kiss him on the lips. "You most definitely are."

# # # #

"Mine's the smallest one," said Gordon as he walked with John and Karen to what he called the service elevator. "But I don't mind saying so. Because it may be small, but it's better when wet."

Karen choked back a laugh as he helped her into the elevator car. They travelled all the way down to the bottom of Thunderbird 2's hangar and then he led her across to a huge green pod with the number 4 painted on it.

"No need to close your eyes," Gordon said. "Just get a load of the size of this baby." He banged the side of the pod three times with his fist, grinning as the noise reverberated around the hangar and Karen put her hands over her ears. "With me, you get the full experience."

He took her to the pod entrance and led her up the ramp. Inside the pod sat a small, rather jaunty looking little yellow craft.

"What's that?" Karen asked, turning to find that John had now joined them too, eager to see her reactions to all the Thunderbird machines.

"That's Thunderbird 4, my good lady," Gordon told her. "My little yellow submarine."

"Submarine? Oh wow. For underwater rescues?"

"She's catching on," said John.

"One day I may take you out in it. When we run tests. You'll see a whole new world down there, believe me."

Karen went up to the little sub and touched its hull. "It's beautiful," she said. "I love it!"

Gordon turned to John with a smug grin. "See? Size isn't everything."

# # # #

Karen was still digesting everything she'd seen that morning when Grandma Tracy announced that lunch was ready. Everyone piled into the dining room and scraped chairs loudly across the floor as they sat down, immediately reaching for plates of food and jugs of water, talking over each other, laughing and jostling.

"It's quite a household, isn't it?" smiled Lady Penelope, taking a seat to Karen's left with John sitting on her right.

"It certainly is," Karen agreed. "And they're quite a family."

"Yes," Lady Penelope agreed. "They're almost the family I never had myself. Although I could never be quite so brash as they. I'm afraid I had table manners drummed into me from an early age."

Karen nodded, watching Gordon knock his water glass over with his flailing elbow and the ensuing commotion of having to mop it up before it dripped off the table onto Virgil's lap.

"Now, Karen," said Jefferson Tracy from his position at the head of the table. "I must ask you what you thought of your grand tour earlier."

The noise and commotion stopped abruptly. All eyes immediately turned to Karen, who had just that moment taken a mouthful of chicken salad. She looked around, chewing hurriedly, gesturing towards her mouth. Gordon laughed. Lady Penelope put her hand on Karen's arm.

"Take your time," she said gently.

Karen blinked, chewed and swallowed. "It was very impressive," she said, taking a huge gulp of water. "Your machines are out of this world."

"We have Brains to thank for their design," Jeff Tracy said, bringing rather unwanted attention to the bespectacled young scientist who blushed furiously at the mention of his name.

"No-one would believe me even if I _did_ tell," Karen went on, then hastily corrected herself at the sight of Jeff's drawn eyebrows. "Um..not that I ever would, of course."

"Glad to hear it," said Jeff, gruffly but good-naturedly, raising his water glass in her direction.

The noise levels soon rose again. Gordon was adamant that Thunderbird 4 had been Karen's favourite, and she was only being polite by saying she liked all of them equally. Virgil declared that anyone who was so excited about a ride in Thunderbird 2 that they threw up scored bonus points in his book. This led Scott to observe drily that Karen hadn't experienced _his_ 'bird yet, but that once she had, she'd never look back. This was met with raucous laughter and hoots of derision from his younger brothers. As Karen looked around the table at all the laughing faces, Lady Penelope leaned in to her and whispered, "it's a good thing there's only one Scott Tracy, or no woman would be safe."

Karen smiled at her newest female friend. She was glad of the company provided by Penny and Tin-Tin. It made her feel less conspicuous. As she ate and drank and attempted occasionally to join in the banter, she hooked her foot around John's under the table and smiled when he put his hand on her thigh and gave it a loving squeeze. This family was unlike any other family she'd ever met. They were bonded together by much more than genes and blood. Their bond was their love for humanity and their constant striving to make things better. Perhaps the loss of their mother had strengthened their desire to stay close together. Perhaps Jeff's business aspirations had necessitated the aid of his elder sons especially- she could tell Scott was as much a part of Tracy Industries as his father with all the business reports he kept reading and reviewing and the way he walked around looking stressed with his tie undone after the video conferences she'd seen them both attending.

Yes, this was the sort of family anyone would give their eye-teeth to be a part of. Such diversity among them. Jeff, the charismatic leader, Scott the charming, roguish heir to his father's fortune, Virgil the sensitive artist, John the reluctant dreamer, Gordon the affable jester and Alan, the headstrong opportunist. So different, and yet all part of the same unbreakable team.

She put her hand over John's and gripped his lilac-tipped fingers. How could she ever return to her old life after she'd had a taster of this one?

# # # #

Later on, Karen walked with John along the shoreline. She was quiet, reflecting on the events of the last few days. She had spoken to Cathy, and to her mother, and come clean about her new relationship, stopping short of mentioning International Rescue and saying instead that she was just away for a few days with her new lover but would soon be returning home. Cathy had gone crazy, calling her a 'dark horse' and trying to get all the gossip. Karen had laughed and reassured her that no, she hadn't been whisked away by some con-man. She was in love with the most honest and compassionate human being she had ever met. _When will I meet him? _Cathy had asked._ All in due course,_ Karen had replied, as enigmatically as any established member of International Rescue.

"Thinking about what happens next?" asked John, his arm around her waist.

"What are you, psychic?" she laughed in response. "Yes, I suppose I am. Now that your father knows I can be trusted, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to return home."

"Back to the grindstone, hmm."

"Yeah. Back to the library. I must admit, I want to see how everyone's coping after the fire. Cathy said we've taken on some of the museum staff, but that others are jobless now."

"Still, they all survived," John reminded her.

"Except that poor boy," Karen sighed. "They were awful little hooligans, but I never wanted anything that bad to happen to them."

John looked down at his bare feet kicking up clouds of sand. "You wouldn't believe some of the things we see," he admitted. "People can be their own worst enemies sometimes."

"And then you come home to a place like this," she mused, looking at the hazy, cloud smeared sky and the shimmering, pearly ocean, the frigates whirling overhead and the nodding palm trees swaying in the breeze. "It's like a different world altogether."

"The contrast doesn't escape me," John said simply.

They walked on, letting small waves rush forward and grab cheekily at their toes before receding back to the safety of the sea.

"So, when are you thinking of going home?" John asked. "Has dad said anything?"

"No, but I was thinking by the weekend. What's it today, Wednesday? Maybe Saturday, if that's okay for anyone who's going to be flying me. I need to get back to work and my normal routine. I have rent and bills to pay and..."

"Shh, enough of rent and bills." John pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"That's reality, John," she whispered back, wrapping her arms tightly around him, stroking up and down his spine. "That's my life."

John kissed her head, pulled her closer, his hands slipping down to caress her buttocks through the thin skirt of Tin-Tin's she was wearing. "Let's make love," he murmured.

"Not here, surely?"

"No- not exactly _here_. Come on, let's take a walk."

# # # #

Making love outdoors in what felt like a tropical rainforest (but was slightly drier) was all that Karen had hoped it would be. The tickle of grass on her naked skin, the caress of the breeze, the scent of flowers and even the hummingbird that carried on drinking nectar above them, oblivious to their antics. John seemed extra attentive and loving, not to mention extraordinarily aroused, even for him. He began by kissing her all over, burying his face in her neck and biting her earlobes, licking and sucking her nipples, nibbling his way down her ribcage and abdomen, swirling his tongue into her belly button and then delving hungrily between her legs, making her whimper and bite down hard on her own knuckles as he edged her closer and closer to orgasm with expert ministrations of his lips and tongue.

When the climax came it was explosive, radiating outwards in all directions, causing her back to arch right up off the grass as she moaned her pleasure into her hand, biting down hard on the fleshy pad of her thumb.

As she calmed down from the intense feelings, John pulled himself up over her on both hands and thrust himself deep inside her, pistoning into her, hard and fast, until he too came in an intense rush of ecstasy, pouring himself into her, not just physically but it seemed mentally as well, joining with her in a climactic celebration of all that they shared.

When the wave had receded he collapsed in her arms and they lay there, both breathing hard, their skin shining with perspiration, muscles trembling and twitching in the aftermath.

"I love you," John whispered. "I don't want to say goodbye to you again."

Karen held him close, stroked her foot down the back of his calf. "Goodbye's not forever," she said softly.

"It's near enough," he responded.

"We'll see each other again."

"I know, but..." John raised himself on one elbow, gazed down into her eyes. He appeared to be about to say something but then he stopped. Instead he pressed his lips to hers, nuzzled their noses together. "I guess we'll find a way to make it work."

# # # #

Later, they spent a happy afternoon by the pool. There was hysterical laughter when Virgil appeared on the balcony in a vest and sarong and sashayed down the flight of steps as though he were a catwalk diva. Gordon wolf-whistled heartily, Scott tipped his sunglasses down his nose for a better look, and John, in the water with Karen, shook his head and muttered, "_what_ a show-off."

"So, what do you think, people?" Virgil asked, putting one hand on his hip and the other behind his head, twirling around for their appraisal. "The colours are very in this season."

"Piss yellow and bile green? Since when?" muttered Scott, actually walking around his brother for a close-up inspection.

"Heathen," said Virgil. "This is the Autumn Palette."

"It's the middle of summer."

"I'm ahead of my time," Virgil pouted. "As usual."

Scott lunged forward suddenly and made a grab for the sarong.

"I fuckin' _knew_ you would do that!" Virgil yelled, dodging away from his older brother's outstretched hand.

"C'mon, Virgil, be a man," laughed Scott. "Show us what you got."

"Are you gay?" shouted Virgil, ducking another lunge. "I mean, as if you don't get enough women!"

Scott laughed loudly and chased his brother across the pool deck, catching up with him when Virgil realised it was impossible to run in a sarong, not at speed anyway. Scott barrelled into him and they began tussling, and soon they were both in the pool, landing with a thunderous splash that engulfed John and Karen in a huge wave.

Scott broke through the surface first, his sunglasses missing, shaking water from his hair like a big wet dog. He held the sarong triumphantly over his head. "Got it!"

"And what was the purpose of that macho display?" asked John, shaking water from his own hair while Karen spluttered the water from her nose.

"Oh, sorry, folks," Scott grinned. "Guess I saw the skirt and just got carried away."

"_Sarong_, you big ape," said Virgil appearing beside him, his chestnut hair slicked back like a seal's. "Jesus, you're so ignorant sometimes."

Scott shrugged. "I got the skirt. I don't care. I win."

"Bitch," muttered Virgil, then dove underwater and swam away.

"Now, girls," said John with a smirk.

Tin-Tin and Jeff appeared carrying trays of drinks and other refreshments. As everyone piled into the jugs of lemonade and cranberry juice and ice cold beers, Karen couldn't help thinking she could quite become used to this way of life.

"This is what Virgil calls 'lollygagging'," said John, twisting the cap off his beer bottle. "Just hanging out by the pool doing sweet Fanny Adams."

Virgil appeared beside John. He had retrieved Scott's sunglasses from the bottom of the pool and was now wearing them himself. Luckily he had thought to put on swimming shorts under his sarong. He dripped all over the table as he selected a cold beer and a ham sandwich. "This is the life," he agreed.

"Well, I actually thought the sarong suited you, in a way," said Karen. "I'd quite like to see you all take a turn at it."

Lady Penelope, who was sitting nearby in the shade, chuckled with mirth. "How long have I been pestering you boys for a fashion show?"

"Too long," said Virgil with a wink. "But like we told you, we're not pieces of meat."

"Well, I think it's payback for all the times you've stared at Tin-Tin and myself in our bikinis," Lady Penelope smiled back.

"Hey, I appreciate a well-cut garment, that's all," Virgil protested. "Geez, it's so hard to be a man of taste around here."

As they all ate and drank around the pool deck, Karen noticed that someone was missing. "Hey, John," she said, looking round, "where did Gordon go?"

A moment later there was a loud war cry from the top of the steps and Gordon appeared wearing nothing but a pair of tight red Speedoes and something shiny on a ribbon around his neck.

"The gold medal!" Karen gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as Gordon bounded down the steps three at a time, landing on both bare feet with a thump at the bottom.

"Ta daah!" he cried, throwing his arms wide.

Karen didn't know where to look- at the Olympic Gold Medal or the tight red Speedoes, that were indeed very tight. "Oh, my! _Gordon_!" was all she could manage to say as he came towards them, flexing his pecs and rippling his abs.

"Go on, have a feel," he invited.

John frowned, shot his brother a warning look.

"Of the medal, Johnny. The _medal_."

Karen reached out and took the gold disc gently between her fingers, trying hard not to touch Gordon's muscular chest as she did so. The medal suspended on a blue silk ribbon was heavier than she thought it would be. She weighed it in her hand, studying its features, the embossed five circles insignia and the year of the Olympic Games that he was in.

"A real Olympic Gold Medal," she said softly.

"Worn by a real Olympic Gold Athlete," Gordon grinned, breathing hard, either from the exertion of bounding down the steps or having his chest almost fondled by Karen, he wasn't sure.

"The Speedoes are impressive too," Karen managed to say before John gently disengaged the medal from her fingers and told her to put his brother down.

"Yep, they still fit," Gordon beamed. "Well...just about."

"Gordon, go get a cold shower," said John. "You're steaming up the air."

Gordon laughed, unhooked the medal from around his neck, gave it to Karen, and ran across to the pool, executing a perfect, almost splashless dive into the water.

"They're pulling out all the stops today," John smiled, shaking his head.

"I love it," Karen laughed. "Your brothers are quite crazy. I'll miss them."

John pulled her close. "Don't keep reminding me that you're going," he said, burying his lips in the hair at the nape of her neck.

"I have to," she said, pulling his arms around her in front. "This is your life, not mine."

"And don't keep saying that, either."

Karen was about to say something reassuring when there was the sudden jarring sound of an alarm going off. It made her jump out of her skin with fear, certain that she already knew what it meant.

"Shit!" John cried. At the same time, every one of his brothers stopped what they were doing and scrambled towards the house.

"Oh dear," said Lady Penelope as Tracy brother after Tracy brother ran past in a blur. "I had rather hoped this wouldn't happen today."

# # # #

Jefferson Tracy fixed them all with a keen eye as they stood before him in varying degrees of undress, Gordon still dripping in his red Speedoes. "A train has derailed from a bridge in Ireland. Two carriages ended up down a ravine and the emergency services can't get at them. Scott, get underway, Alan will give you the location co-ordinates. Virgil, Gordon, John, you'll probably need the winch cables more than anything, but take the Mole just in case, although I doubt you'll need it."

Karen stood with Tin-Tin and Lady Penelope as each brother raced to his position. She saw now how Scott swivelled a secret wall panel and Virgil disappeared backwards down a concealed chute. This house was full of constant surprises, and she wasn't even sure if she liked them all as they swallowed up each brother in turn and sent him on his way to his machine.

Seeing Karen's look of worry, Tin-Tin patted her back to comfort her. "Well, at least you'll get to see a launch now," she smiled. "Come on- over to the window."

Within moments the house began trembling and the muffled rumbling began.

"Scott?" Karen asked.

Tin-Tin nodded. "Watch the pool," she smiled.

"The pool? The pool we were just swimming in?"

"The very same," said Lady Penelope, standing on the other side of her.

"He's under the house, isn't he? I knew he was under the house!" Despite her concern, Karen also felt herself getting excited. She had no idea what she was about to see, and her adrenaline was flowing, making her tense and hyper.

After a few moments of religiously watching the pool, she could swear that it started moving. She blinked, looked away, looked back. It was definitely moving. The water sloshed and rippled as the entire pool began to slide back under the patio. Soon a huge cavern was revealed beneath. How many huge caverns were there underneath this innocuous looking little island?

A tremendous roar started up and the cavern began to glow fiery orange. Smoke trailed out of the gaping hole and within moments something appeared. Before Karen could even register that it was Thunderbird 1, the silver rocket had cleared the gap and was hurtling skywards, trailing orange flames and thick plumes of fuel exhaust.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, craning her neck up and up and up. "That was _unbelievable_!"

"That's Scott, all right," smiled Lady Penelope. "He's very showy."

It wasn't long before Thunderbird 1 was just a tiny speck in the distance, and Karen had to look away from the blinding brightness of the sun.

"What about the others?" she asked curiously.

"They launch from the end of the cliff house runway," Tin-Tin said, "but Scott's was the one we really wanted you to see. We knew you wouldn't believe it!"

# # # #

After the excitement of watching Thunderbird 1 launch and then watching Thunderbird 2 as she rounded the island and headed off in the same direction as her sister ship, Karen found herself back to feeling nervous and agitated, pacing around the kitchen out of Jeff Tracy's way.

"Oh dear," said Lady Penelope. "It really does no good to worry, you know. This is a fairly routine assignment for the boys. We've had reports that there are no fatalities and that Thunderbird 2 may not even need to make a landing. The boys can use the winch cables from the air."

"I can't help it," Karen sighed. "This is all so new to me. I've never had a boyfriend whose job put him in mortal danger before."

"John's not in mortal danger, darling," Lady Penelope said gently. "Jeff's spoken to all of them. They're perfectly safe. Here. What can we do to relax you." The charming blonde began opening cupboards, just as Grandma Tracy appeared.

"The young lady likes my Chocolate Gateau," Mrs. Tracy said decisively. "The only trouble is, that greedy Scott ate the last slice this morning. It'll have to be blueberry flapjacks."

Karen smiled as a plate of blueberry flapjacks and a tall glass of milk were placed in front of her. She felt like she was eleven years old again. "Thank you, Mrs. Tracy," she said appreciatively. "These look delicious."

"I always have something hidden from those boys," Mrs. Tracy said with a wink, "for moments just like this."

# # # #

Hours later the boys returned home, tired, dishevelled and covered in bloody scratches.

"Gordon and I had to winch down through this dense undergrowth," John said as he and Gordon sat at the kitchen counter in their uniforms while Karen swabbed John's cuts and grazes with antiseptic. "That was some ravine. I didn't even know they had landscape like that in Ireland."

Gordon was on the next stool being tended to by Tin-Tin. "We got the passengers out through the windows," he said, wincing as the young girl wiped a large scratch across his forehead. "It was like some kind of jungle down there. I kept expecting lions and gorillas to leap out."

"And someone asked me why I was wearing mauve nail polish," John said. "I told them I wasn't wearing mauve nail polish- I was wearing lilac nail polish. Geez, get it right."

Scott, who was largely unblemished, leaned against the doorframe, and Virgil, who was completely unmarked seeing as he hadn't left the cockpit of Thunderbird 2 the whole time, nonchalantly poured himself a glass of lemonade. The two older Tracys watched as their younger brothers received all the loving care and attention of the two women.

"We're definitely doing something wrong," said Scott.

"Well, if you didn't keep trying to grab my ass, people wouldn't keep thinking you were gay," retorted Virgil, flicking his brother's earlobe as he passed by on his way to the lounge.

Soon after, they heard the sounds of Virgil at the piano, playing some kind of Gaelic lament.

"Here we go," said Scott, heading out of the kitchen. "If he keeps that up all night, his piano will be firewood by the morning."

John looked into Karen's eyes as she dabbed away crusted blood from his neck. "They're just superficial scratches," he told her. "They're nothing compared to what the rail passengers went through." He took one of her hands in his and stroked his thumb across her knuckles. "You do know that, don't you?"

She nodded, pouring more antiseptic onto a fresh tissue. "I know, John. It's okay."

"Scott doesn't send us into any situation he doesn't feel is safe," John went on. "And I know you know _that_."

"I'm fine, honestly," Karen told him. "I was much better this time than the other day. And before I knew you were International Rescue, I wasn't even worried at all, right? And you were still fine. So my worrying doesn't make a difference to anyone or anything but me."

"That's not entirely true," John said, squeezing her hand again. "It makes a difference to me. If you worry, I worry. I worry about you thinking the worst."

"I won't," Karen said, tilting his head over to get at a cut further down near his collar bone. "I'm getting used to it. Before long, I'll be sending you off with a cheery wave and a packed lunch."

"Before long, I'll be back in the satellite, and I'll be safer than all of you down here on Earth put together," he smiled back, a little sadly.

# # # #

That evening, after dinner, John took Karen to the observatory at the top of the extinct volcano. She pulled Tin-Tin's cardigan around her as a cool night breeze sprang up, shivering slightly as she waited for John to unlock the big metal door and let them in.

Once inside, he flicked a bank of light switches and Karen gasped as the interior of the cylindrical building lit up to reveal all kinds of computer monitors and tracking equipment humming away endlessly, hour after hour, day after day.

"I do much of my research here," John explained, indicating walls covered with sheets of data, star maps, photos and faxes and handwritten calculations. There were also detailed models of every planet in the solar system, plus their orbiting satellites.

"It's fantastic," she gasped.

"But the best part is upstairs. Come on." He led her back outside and up the spiralling staircase to the top of the dome.

Once inside, he opened up the roof and set to work setting up and calibrating the telescope to find her something to look at. "I'll see if I can find a planet for you," he said, settling onto the attached seat and peering into the eyepiece.

Karen watched him at work in his element and wondered if it were possible to love him any more than she already did. He was completely engrossed, peering into the eyepiece, focusing the lens, peering again. She wondered if he'd even notice if she was gone. As a test, she took a few steps towards the open hatchway.

"Where are you going?" John asked without even looking up.

She laughed. "I was just testing you," she said.

He grimaced in the darkness. "Get over here," he said reaching his arm out for her as she came skipping over. "And don't test me, or there'll be trouble."

"Ooh," Karen said, shivering. "Yes, sir."

John pulled her onto his lap, wrapping one arm around her. He held some sort of remote device in the other hand, and with it he made the telescope rotate until it was pointing at a different section of the night sky. "I think there may be something for you here," he said, leaning past her to look through the eyepiece again. "Ah, yes, here it is. Someone you might recognise."

Karen leaned forward and looked through the eyepiece. "It's Saturn!" she cried, delighted. "Aw, poor old Saturn, all alone up there with no friends."

John sighed. "Poor Saturn, my ass. That planet has over 33 moons. It's a wild party up there every single night."

"Oh, good," Karen said, marvelling at the rings around the distant planet. "That does make me feel better."

"Here's another amazing factoid," John went on, nuzzling the hair at the back of her neck. "Saturn is the only planet in our Solar System that is less dense than water. It would float if there were a body of water large enough."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. It's a gas giant- mostly hydrogen and helium."

"Imagine that. We'd all be talking like Mickey Mouse up there."

"Are you interested in learning anything at all?" John asked, sternly, biting her gently on the side of her neck.

"Mmm. Okay, the rings. What are they made of?"

"Mostly ice, dust and some rock. There are 35 trillion-trillion tons of it up there. Possibly the debris from an asteroid or comet collision but no-one knows for sure, not even after all these years."

"They're beautiful, anyway," Karen said, transfixed by the awesome sight of the distant planet. "However they got there. So symmetrical, so perfect."

John held her close in his lap, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin. "Karen," he said after a short while. "I need to...um, I mean, that is...I want to ask you something."

"Oh?" Karen lifted her head from the eyepiece to look round at him.

"Okay," he went on, after taking a deep breath. "I hope this is a good time." He cleared his throat again. "Look at Saturn again. See those rings?"

Karen peered at the planet once more. "Yes, John. I see the rings."

"Well," John went on, "imagine that I could reach out there and take one of those rings and slip it onto your finger."

Karen blinked, unsure of what it was she just heard. "I beg your pardon?" she uttered.

"Imagine if I could reach out there and take one of Saturn's rings and slip it onto your finger," John repeated. "Um, because I don't actually have a ring on me right now, but I wanted to ask you before you go home. Karen..." he swallowed hard, closed his eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Why had Saturn suddenly gone misty?

Karen pushed herself away from the telescope and flung her arms around John's neck. "Oh, John, yes, yes, of course I'll marry you! Of course I will!" The tears coursed down her cheeks as she hugged him hard, her heart bursting with joy.

John held her tightly and released his breath in a rush of relief. "Oh, God- thank you. I was so scared you'd say no."

"Why the heck would I say no? I love you!" Karen lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. Her eyes were wet and shining, her lip quivering, her smile as wide as the crescent moon. "I love you John Tracy, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

"I love you too, Karen Meadows. Well, soon to be Karen Tracy, I guess."

"Oh my God, how cool does that sound," she giggled. "Karen Tracy. _Karen Tracy_! Oh, Saturn, do you hear that? I'm going to be Karen Tracy!"

"I guess it's only polite to tell him seeing as we borrowed one of his rings," John grinned, "although I promise I'll have a real one for you before you know it."

"Oh, John. I'm so proud to be the only girl on Earth wearing one of Saturn's rings."

"See?" John murmured, holding her close, rocking her gently in his lap. "He's not the lonely old planet that you thought he was. Not any more."

"No-one's going to be lonely any more," Karen said, burying her face in her future husband's neck.

# # # #

When John announced that Karen had agreed to marry him, the entire Tracy household erupted. John was swept up in a series of backslapping bear hugs by his delighted brothers, all of whom wanted to get to him at once. Karen was embraced tightly by Lady Penelope, who murmured congratulations into her ear, and then by Tin-Tin who was already in floods and floods of tears. Grandma Tracy stood by with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, hardly believing the news that one of her grandsons was finally tying the knot, with the prospect of great-grandchildren to follow. Jeff looked proud as Punch, and fished out a box of cigars from a secret desk drawer.

"Dad, you know I quit smoking," John said, waving away the offer of a giant cheroot.

"Well, I'm going to make an exception," Jeff announced, lighting it and putting it in his mouth. "It's not every day one of my kids gets married."

Gordon went over to Karen and twirled her around and around. "I guess that puts me firmly out of the running, but if you ever change your mind...?" he said hopefully, planting a smacker on her cheek.

"Hey, watch yourself," warned John.

"You know I'll always have a soft spot for you, Gordon," Karen smiled, hugging him back. "Even if you did make me think you were going to shoot me just five minutes after we met."

"Yeah...not good for a first date, huh," the auburn haired Tracy said sadly. "I don't normally start shooting people until I've known them for at least a week."

Virgil came over and prised his tousle-headed brother away so that he too could give Karen a hug. "Someone's actually making an honest man out of Johnny," he said, folding Karen into his arms. "Who would ever have believed it."

"It's not every girl that gets proposed to with one of Saturn's rings," Karen grinned, hugging Virgil tightly.

"Trust Johnny to be so spectacularly different," Virgil laughed.

Scott appeared then, loudly clearing his throat. "Do I get a turn?" he asked bluntly.

Virgil gave Karen one final quick squeeze. "It's okay, he's gay," he murmured into her ear before letting Scott have his turn.

Scott was a whole head taller than Karen. Being hugged by him was like being engulfed. She felt his cheek on the top of her head and found her face buried in his warm neck with that infernal aftershave that made her head spin, and that voice that made even the word 'congratulations' sound sexy. She was so glad she was marrying John and not this devil, but she relished the chance to hug him nonetheless.

After all the hugging was finally over- even Jeff had given her shoulders a fatherly squeeze, although Brains had made do with a nervous handshake- the drinks trolley came out and they all raised their glasses in a toast to the happy couple-to-be.

"I'll have to tell my mother," Karen grinned, knocking back a full measure of brandy. "She'll die!"

"We'll have the best reception," Gordon cried loudly. "We'll hire a Mariachi band and everything."

"We will not hire a Mariachi band," Jeff said sternly.

"Professor Lollygag here can supply the music," Scott said, clapping Virgil on the shoulder. "Some uptempo jazz fusion, what do you say, bro?"

"Philistine," muttered Virgil.

"Oh, we _must _have a big reception," Tin-Tin said, clapping her hands with glee.

"Whoa!" said John, "aren't we getting ahead of ourselves here?"

"I don't care what we have," Karen laughed, wrapping her arms tightly around John. "As long as I start out as Miss Karen Meadows and end the day as Mrs. Karen Tracy."

"Well, Mrs. Karen Tracy," said Jeff, smiling and holding up his brandy glass, "here's to you and John and to many, many years of happiness to come."

"I second that," said John, clinking his own glass against his father's.

"John, my son," said Jeff, through a cloud of cigar smoke. "I'm so very, very proud of you."

John smiled back, felt the warmth of a blush suffuse his cheeks. He found he couldn't quite look directly at his father. Then as he felt Karen beside him, the strength of her embrace, the way she nestled perfectly into his side as though they were purposely made to fit, he felt himself grow taller and he raised his head and met his father's eyes.

"Thank you, dad," he said.

# # # #

That night, John and Karen lay together bathed in the afterglow of their shared love, limbs entwined, breathing softly, fingers wound in each other's hair.

"I guess this means I'll be living here," Karen said, gazing at the constellation map on the ceiling above her.

"Is that okay?" John asked, his face covered with her tangled curls.

"I suppose so- I mean, it's not ideal. There's no Wine World or 24 hour pizza delivery, or street traffic or neighbours thumping around over your head day and night. Or dogs barking incessantly or drunks coming home at three in the morning and singing outside your house."

"No. Sorry about that. I know how you like your wine and your instant pizza."

"I guess I could get used to the quiet, eventually. And the constant sunshine, and the sparkling blue ocean, and the constant lollygagging by the pool."

"You'll have a friend for life in Virgil," John smiled.

"Maybe your father could find me a job to do. Filing or something. Or valeting Thunderbird 2."

"Again, friend for life in Virgil."

"I couldn't come up to the satellite, could I?"

"We can work on that," John said.

Karen sighed, swept her gaze across the constellations. "Crux," she said idly.

"Excuse me?"

"Crux, up there. On your map. The Southern Cross."

"Oh. I thought you were cursing."

"Silly," she laughed.

"The Magellanic Clouds are up there too, if you look."

"Scorpius."

"Mmm. I love it when you talk dirty."

"I can see I'm going to have to learn some astronomy if I'm to keep you happy," she grinned.

"You already make me happy, Mrs. Karen Tracy," he murmured.

"Mrs. Karen Tracy," she pondered. "It sounds so _me_. Hey, maybe we could call our first child Saturn. Saturn Tracy."

"Boy or girl?"

"Either. Like Morgan. Or Paris."

"No child of mine will ever be called Paris," John muttered.

Karen hugged him gently, stroked his hair, wrapped her legs around his. "I love you, John Tracy," she whispered. "Forever and always."

"I love you too, Mrs. Karen Tracy. Forever and always and always. Now go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," she laughed quietly, and rolled over to nestle against him under the covers.

THE END


End file.
